


Nobody Needs to Know

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 21:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7191074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years of running had only brought her back to him. Would immediate happiness be worth the pain later? A character redemption romance, mentions of past abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dazzling sunlight poured into the room, but despite the open window it was quiet. I slowly opened my eyes, looking at the golden hair fanned out on the pillow next to me. She was so peaceful in her sleep, delicate. She was wrapped tightly in my arms, her thin, small back to my chest.   
She looked like an angel. Her milky skin was covered below her waist by a silk sheet, but the visible skin above was so smooth. I rubbed a hand against her enormous, swollen belly.   
Petra made a low moaning noise, and ground her hips against me. I couldn't help but become aroused by the sensation. I kissed her shoulder, up to her neck, to her cheek. She wiggled again. I smiled.  
I kissed back down to the crux of her neck and shoulder, before lightly biting and suckling on it. "Oh." She murmured, rubbing her bottom against me again. "Please? I want you."   
I moved my hand on her belly down between her legs and spread them to give me access. I rubbed my hand up and down her thighs a few times, enjoying her reflexive breath in as my hand neared her core.  
Finally I rested my hand on her feminine folds. She was so wet, so ready. Slowly I guided a finger into her. Her body tensed as she moaned.  
"More. Please. Now!"  
"Hush. I'm enjoying myself." I said, before withdrawing my finger from her. She whimpered in protest, but was quickly appeased by my thumb on her clitoris, slowly rubbing small circles.  
"Yes." She groaned. I loved pregnant Petra. So responsive. "So close." She moaned, her body stiffening against mine.  
"Not yet." I whispered in her ear. It's no fun if you come too fast." I slid my hand up to her breasts, taking a nipple between my fingers and gently rolling it.  
My erection was almost painful between us. It throbbed for her. To me, she was as beautiful as ever, even better, because she was mine again. I had to have her, now.  
Slowly I entered her from behind, her leg thrown over my hip. She was so hot, so wet, so ready.   
"Ah!" She called out, pushing herself against me. "Yes, more!"  
Finally I was buried completely inside of her, and began to move. The sensation was incredible, all consuming. I brought my hand back down to her clitoris, rubbing in small circles again.   
Her hand reached back and grabbed my hair, pulling as she started to tremble. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on her skin.  
"Good, Petra." I murmured in her ear. "Just let go."  
Her orgasm ripped through her, and I could feel her inner muscles clench around me even tighter. There was no more amazing feeling than her. It felt like it went on forever.   
Suddenly she pulled my hair again. "Don't stop." She moaned. "Harder!"  
I complied with her wishes, driving into her harder and faster. I was rewarded a short moment later with her raging climax. She bucked wildly against me, her spasms and her moans uncontrolled, calling my name.  
"Milos!"  
For all that I loved my Natalia, I loved my Petra more.

The Night Before  
It was half past eight at night, and I couldn't sleep. I was hungry for something, but it wasn't food. I paced around the room again. Then again. I felt caged, stifled, ready to lash out. I needed something.  
I knocked on the door of the study, then opened it. Milos sat quietly, reading a book at the desk. He'd gotten back from Prague a week ago, and I still wasn't entirely used to his presence.  
"Petra." He smiled. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"  
Pleasure?    
The pit in my stomach tightened. I stood there, mute. Staring at him.  
"Petra?" He closed his book and stood. "Are you okay?"  
Was I? I was pregnant by my own impetuous actions, my mother framed me for murder, and my formerly verbally and emotionally abusive ex boyfriend, now husband, saved me from jail with the creepy video recordings he kept of my suite.  
Milos' eyebrows furrowed, and he crossed the room to me. He went to put his arm around my shoulders, but I shied away from his touch. I imagined him angry, I thought about how he used to scream and rage with his fury. He never touched me, but I thought about all the walls he punched, the fights he started, the years I spent living in terror that he would find me.  
He put his hands down. "What can I do?" He asked quietly.  
"I don't know. I'm in a strange mood. Excuse me." I replied in a clipped tone, turning to leave.  
"Petra, wait." Milos caught my hand in his. It was warm and rough. My mouth went dry. "I want to help. How do I fix it?"  
I shook my head. "I'm just overwhelmed. With my Mother, the babies, being alone, the hormones." I trailed off.  
Milos let go of my hand. "Me?"  
A dark, humorless laugh escaped me. "Five years on the run and now we're married. It's a bit of a change."  
"How do I fix it?" Milos asked again. "Petra, I know I hurt you. I know I treated you like a possession instead of the incredible, strong woman you are. To me, you will always be the best thing in my life. Even if you never forgive me. Even if you never love me back, I want to make you happy, as happy as you make me. So let me help."  
Love him back? I did, once.  
"Natalia feels like so long ago." I said absently. "A thousand years and a million miles ago. A different person."  
Milos paused for a moment. "You have changed, that's obvious to both of us. But I'm a different person, too. My actions drove you away, and I spent every day after that determined to change for the better. Even if I couldn't have you, I was determined to change. I've taken so many anger management classes, seen so many specialists. The Milos you knew is not the Milos I am now. The Milos I am now can help you."  
I rubbed my arms, though I wasn't cold. "I was so happy with you. When you weren't angry. I wonder how happy we could be now, if you'd gotten help then."  
Milos startled, as if struck by an idea. "Let's see." He said, smiling.  
"What?"  
"Let's pretend. Just for tonight. You're still my Natalia, my wife. I've just bought a stake in this hotel, and we're here on vacation."  
I raised an eyebrow. "A hotel is a strange investment considering the rest of your portfolio."  
"Natalia would be worried about my safety, doing what I do. So I'm going legitimate for her. Especially since she's pregnant with our children."  
I rubbed my belly. It was an insane idea. Totally crazy. But my heart longed for just a little normalcy. For a husband who loved me, who I loved. For things to be easy. For our lives to be comfortable. Let's face it, I was desperate.  
"Okay." I heard myself say. "Just one night."  
"You won't regret it, Natalia." Milos said, lightly touching my elbow and giving me a lingering kiss on the cheek. "Now, how are you feeling? I'd like to take you to dinner."  
My stomach churned. "Not dinner. Maybe dessert? Something light."  
"Of course, my angel." He seemed to really be enjoying himself. "Go put on something almost as beautiful as you while I find us some place to eat."  
Throughout the years, I'd forgotten how flowery Milos could be. For five years I lived in such fear of him, all I could remember was how horrible he was when he was angry. How angry he would be if he found me.  
Remembering him when he was loving had hurt too much to think about. I had loved him completely, with my whole heart. I knew I had to leave, but it had been almost impossible. The pain of loss was devastating. I had to purge all the sweet memories from my mind.  
I mechanically picked a dress and shoes, thinking about how I had to go back out there and tell him that I'd changed my mind. I couldn't do it. I couldn't pretend. I couldn't relive the good parts. I had to protect myself. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.  
Milos' face lit up as I walked into the room. "You look beautiful. Even more beautiful than when we met."  
My mouth twisted wryly. "I'm certainly more polished. My job has improved."  
He frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, Petra. I'm not sure I can do this."  
My eyes widened in shock. Something brewed within me, thick and bitter. Indignant rage. "What?" I nearly shouted. "After everything you put me through, you can't do this? I lived in fear of your explosions for two years and fear that you would find me for five more! Do you know what it was like, leaving you? It was unimaginably painful. I was desolate, I honestly believed I was incapable of feeling anything but empty for years after I left you. And you have the nerve, the gall to say that you are the one who can't handle this charade?"  
Suddenly he was crossing the room, kissing me. His hands were in my hair. Mine were on his arms and pulling him closer, though I had no idea how they had gotten there. There were hot tears on my cheeks, but I wasn't sure whose they were. He kissed me until I was breathless, until I couldn't think about anything but his lips on mine.  
"I'm so sorry, Petra. I'm so sorry I did this to you." He murmured. He looked so ashamed. "I love you so much."  
"Damn you." I hissed. "Kiss me again." My head screamed no. My heart ached in preparation for the pain I'd go through if I let myself remember how much I could love him. But with every kiss I pulled him closer, until we were crushed together.  
Tenderly he stroked my face, my hair, my back. I'd forgotten how gentle he was, at least with me. As we kissed, a long buried memory surfaced.  
"Are you sure?"  
The only light in the dark room was the moonlight, shining down on Milos, glinting off his hair, illuminating his naked chest. We were both breathing heavily.  
"Of course I'm sure." I had replied, running my hands through his hair. "I'm yours. I love you."  
Our first time together. He had been so sweet, so gentle then, too. The pressure low in my belly tightened, intensified. "Take me to bed." I said. Milos looked surprised. "Are you sure?" He questioned.  
"Yes." I insisted curtly, before adding "Please."  
He scooped me up into his arms like I didn't weigh an ounce, and carried me to his room. "You can always change your mind." He said seriously, while laying me on the bed.  
"When have I ever done that?" I asked as he removed my shoes and lightly massaged my feet and ankles.  
He looked up at me with that little smile of his. "It was just a few months ago you said no sex." He winked, rubbing his hands up my legs. "I've always loved your legs." He murmured. "Best part of Miami weather."  
My heart squeezed uncomfortably, another warning not to do this. I started to unfasten the tie on my wrap dress. "Let's get on with it." I insisted rudely.  
He shook his head and caught my hands in his. "I've waited five years for this day. I want us both to enjoy it."  
He kissed my hands, then released them to cup my face. His lips were soft and warm on mine, gentle and assuring. Something tightened inside of me. His hands started to roam my body, caressing my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach.  
I tentatively put my hands on his shoulders, feeling their breadth. They were as strong and firm as I remembered. My hands slid to his arms. They were firm, sinewy and lean, but strong. Then my hands moved to his torso, still hard and trim. Aside from the glint of grey in his hair, he seemed the same. But was he?  
"Oh, Petra." He whispered, untying my dress and opening it. He buried his face in my neck and inhaled deeply, before running his hands over my swollen body. "You are so beautiful."  
"You don't have to lie. I have a mirror." I replied, pulling the dress off my arms.  
"You are beautiful." Milos insisted fiercely, lightly touching my face and kissing me. "When we are done, you tell me who said you weren't, and I'll take care of it."  
"Still looking for a good fight? So much for change." It came out significantly more hostile than I'd intended.  
"No." He said, looking me in the eyes. "The only place I hit anything is the boxing studio. Or the ju jitsu studio. I'm a successful businessman now. I have henchmen for that."  
He shrugged, and for just a moment a laugh nearly escaped me. I had forgotten about his wit, about his humor. "Kiss me again." I said, reaching for him. My hands began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the lightly muscled chest beneath. Soon my hands met the closure on his dress pants. I unfastened it and unzipped them, pushing them down to his knees. Now wearing only his boxers, I could see his hardness, and I lightly stroked it.  
Milos inhaled quickly, before breaking the kiss to pull off his shirt and kick off his pants and shoes. I tugged my bra over my head, throwing it in the pile with my dress.  
He kneeled over me as I shivered in anticipation. Hooking his thumbs into my panties, he slowly dragged them down my legs and tossed them carelessly across the room. He put his hands back on my legs, teasing up and down my inner thighs. His rough fingertips made me skip a breath and spread my legs wider.  
Milos bent down and gently kissed me on the lips, then kissed down my neck to my breasts. He laved one of my nipples with his tongue while his hand moved from my thigh to the core of my womanhood. I arched my hips in a desperate plea for more.  
"Do you still want this?" He asked, briefly pausing his ministrations.  
"Yes." I breathed. He smiled, his finger delving between my folds and entering me. A second joined it, lightly rubbing. "Yes." I heard myself moan. The pressure within me was mounting faster than it ever had before. Suddenly he stopped.  
"Not so fast." He teased, withdrawing his fingers and kissing down my belly. I felt empty, bereft. Then his hot mouth was on me, his tongue lightly flicking my clitoris.  
"Milos!" I grabbed his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. His tongue danced a circle around it, before flicking it again and again. My back arched, my hands pulled him closer. Flames raced through my body, and everything in me tightened. Each lick brought me closer to the stars, each breath I took was more ragged than the last. I was so close. I was right there.  
Then he stopped, pulling away from me. I felt bereft. "But I need you." I said quietly, a frustrated whisper.  
I watched as he removed his boxers and leaned over me. "Petra, my Love. Are you still sure?"  
I touched his hand. "Of course I'm sure." I responded, surprised by the tenderness in my voice. I stroked his face. He touched his lips to mine,  
lightly at first, then deeply, passionately.  
He wrapped his arms around me and carefully lifted me onto his lap. I felt his erection pressing against me, and slowly slid myself down onto it. It was most exquisite pleasure I had ever felt, white hot and all consuming.  
"Oh, Petra." Milos ground out, as I took all of him inside me. Slowly I started to move, and the pleasure intensified. One of my hands buried in his hair, the other clawed at his back. I couldn't control the moans  escaping from me.  
One of his hands was around my waist, helping me ride him. The other rubbed slow circles against my sweet spot. I crushed my mouth against his as  the waves of pleasure began to overwhelm me.  
"I want to hear you." Milos said, pulling his mouth from mine. I couldn't hold back any more.  
"Oh, Milos." I moaned, as my orgasm began to wrack my body. "Milos, yes." I couldn't seem to hold back. My climax was incredible, mind numbing, indescribable. "Oh, I've missed this." I rode him harder, faster, as my seemingly endless orgasm shook me. "I've missed you." I moaned.  
I felt Milos explode inside me, as he wrapped me tightly in his arms. "I missed you." I said softly, as my climax began to subside.  
As his breath started to even out, Milos laid us both down, our still entwined. My eyes met his. "We can talk about it tomorrow." He said gently, seeing my expression. "For now, let's sleep. Until tomorrow, my beautiful wife."  
My heart prickled, like the beginnings of pins and needles when a long sleeping body part begins to wake up. My brain tried to wrap around what I'd said during sex, but I couldn't. I was finally tired.  
I curled closer to his warm embrace, and almost immediately I was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

I stiffened as I came, holding her tightly and whispering in her ear in Czech. My love. My only. My always.   
I've missed you, too.  
Petra  
I leaned back into his arms, satiated. "Good morning." I murmured, my breathing still erratic. I wasn't ready to address what I'd said the night before, what he'd just said. Milos nodded sleepily against my shoulder just as my stomach gurgled. "As fun as last night and this morning was, we should get up."  
"No." He held me tighter. "I'm not done with you yet."   
A fleeting memory prickled at the back of my mind. We were sitting  together, eating wafers on the bed. I was laughing so hard my sides hurt, so hard that tears were collecting in my eyes.  
"So what did he do?" I asked.  
Milos laughed harder. "He threatened to sue me. Over the tiger I smuggled for him!"  
He was my everything when he was like this. Smart, funny, impossibly caring.   
"I love you." I heard myself say. Milos stared at me. "I'm sorry, it's probably too soon, it's just-- "  
"Thank God." Milos cut me off. "I love you, Natalia. I have loved you since the first time I saw you, since the first word you spoke to me."  
Then his mouth was on mine, and no one said anything.  
"Petra?" I was startled out of my remembrance by his gentle questioning.  
"Do you still keep wafers under the bed? I'm starving."  
He smiled. "You remember. Yes, I do. They're on your side."  
I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me as I leaned over and grabbed the box. It was heavy. Really heavy.  
"Milos? Why is this box of cookies so heavy?"   
"I'll tell you if you will answer a question for me." He answered cryptically. A small smile played across his lips as I scooted back close to him. I told myself it was only because he was warm.  
"Okay." I replied tentatively, covering myself with the sheet and sitting up. Milos sat up next to me, rubbing his hand up and down my leg.  
"That's my emergency box." He said, in a more somber tone than I had expected. "Should anyone ever come, if there's no chance of escape, there's my way out."  
The heft of the box suddenly made sense. "There's a gun in here." I muttered, disbelievingly. He nodded, looking straight forward. "I need a follow up question." I paused. "What's the worst thing you've ever done for work? Why would someone want to kill you?"  
He stopped, his hand stopped mid stroke on my leg. "Please don't ask me that. I don't want you to think of me that way. But I will say this. I spent the six months after you left in anger management, then two years searching for you. You made it clear you didn't want to be found. It was a low point for me, knowing it was my fault you were gone, knowing I could manage my anger all I wanted, but it wasn't going to bring you back. I turned to work. That's when I was given an opportunity to move from scamming and smuggling into less savory, more profitable dealings."  
"The grenades." I murmured. "Milos, you have to stop. I don't want this to be what the end looks like for you." I felt suddenly tense, my chest felt inexplicably tight. Regardless of my feelings for him, whatever those were, no one should expect an end like that.  
"Okay." He said, cupping my face between his hands and kissing me gently. "It will take some time to sell off the less savory items in my portfolio. I'm not in an industry where quitting is an option."  
"Thank you." I breathed, relieved. My stomach gurgled louder, more insistent. Milos took the box from my hands, pulled out a wafer, and held it to my lips.  
"Eat. For the babies." The wafer smelled so good. I opened my mouth, and let him pop one in. "Besides." He said, winking. "If this is what the end looks like for me, I would be thrilled. You naked and wanting next to me."  
I coughed on the cookie, then started to laugh. The levity was back so quickly, so easily. "Well it's not how I want to go! I'm only thirty one and pregnant!"  
"My turn. You said you would answer my question. What has been the best moment in the last five years for you?" He asked, leaning over and kissing my neck as I popped another wafer into my mouth.  
"Honestly?" I felt him nod against my neck. "My first wedding day. I felt happy, and safe, and secure. My Mother was there, I went an entire day without worrying about anything. Does that bother you?"  
The seconds ticked by while I waited for his response. He took a couple of deep breaths in and out. "Yes, I am jealous your best day was marrying someone else, but I also understand you love how you felt that day, not necessarily that you love who you married that day. Though I am jealous he got to have you."  
That was certainly not the response I'd expected. I turned my head to kiss him.  "Don't be. We only had one good year before the miscarriages and then he got sick. What has been your favorite moment in the last five years?"  
"That's easy." Milos said confidently, entwining his hand with mine. "Our wedding."  
"No!" I exclaimed disbelievingly, turning to him. I was surprised to see his face serious, his brown eyes boring into mine. "Milos, what was it really?"  
Tenderly he stroked my chin. "Watching you walk down the aisle. I waited so long to see it. You looked like an angel. When things were bad after you were gone, I used to imagine it. For years I imagined it. Then one day-" He paused to kiss my hand. "One day it came true. Even though you didn't smile, even though you didn't love me, you were there. Everything I had imagined and more. For an entire year, I was supposed to have you for myself."  
I wasn't sure if he was aware of it, but he was gently running his fingers through my hair as he disappeared into his thoughts.   
"I knew about the surveillance." I said quietly. "That's why I tipped off the police. To escape it."  
He nodded, still in his other world. "I should have told you. Petra, all the anger management in the world doesn't change that my work is high risk. I work with bad people. I thought you would be safer with more security." He paused again. "And if in four months, when our year is up, you want me gone, I'd still be able to see you."  
"First of all, that's seriously creepy. Second, I don't understand." I leaned my head on his chest. He sounded so calm, but his heart was beating wildly. "It's been five years. There must have been other women you loved."  
"No." He answered simply, his hand now running up and down my arm. "I haven't seen anyone since we were together. There is only you for me."   
My heart squeezed, sending a warm rush through my chest. I should have stopped and left. I should have run out of that room. Instead I wrapped my arms around his neck and melted my mouth to his.   
I slid down on the pillows, pulling him on top of me. He was careful not to put pressure on my stomach while on his hands and knees above me. I couldn't stop kissing him, it was like I craved him, his scent, his touch, his voice.   
His hand moved to my breast, but I shook my head. "No foreplay. I need you now. Right now."   
I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer. I could feel his erection pressing against me, his hot breath on my neck. He nodded, positioning himself and slowly entering me. I called out, clutching at his arms. It was wonderful. It was perfect. The charge between us was electric, all encompassing.  
"Petra." Milos ground out. "Open your eyes."  
I did, and it was entrancing. His warm brown eyes met mine, staring into me. I felt like he could see every thought, every wish, every fantasy. Pleasure licked through me like flames, scorching and intense. He rocked slowly into me, steadily, letting the pressure build little by little.  
Not breaking eye contact, I slid my hands to his face and kissed him. It was long and lingering, deep and passionate. I wanted to stay in this moment, here with him. The pressure in me was mounting, gaining momentum. I felt as if I were on the precipice of an enormous cliff, about to fall off.  
"Milos, oh, Milos." I said, quietly at first. The pressure peaked and finally I was there, spiraling out of control. As the orgasm wracked my body I called his name, over and over, louder and louder, clutching him for dear life.  
As my orgasm began to trail off, Milos buried his hands in my hair, thrust once more and came, spilling himself into me. As he regained his faculties, he ran one of his hands from my hair to my chin and kissed me softly.  
"I have missed you." He murmured, before moving to lay next to me.   
Those little words had a suddenly profound effect on me. My heart pounded in my chest, my blood roared in my ears, my mouth was suddenly dry. Memories, good ones, started to flood my senses. Picnics in the park, staying up until midnight talking, the joy I used to feel when I saw those tulips on the doorstep. My heart ached.  
"I missed you, too." I said quietly, after some time had passed. "In the beginning I was devastated being without you. I blocked out every positive memory of you. But every minute I spend with you, I remember more and more. And I'm afraid. So afraid you'll hurt me again."  
Milos took in his arms. "Thank you." He whispered. "Petra, you have my word. Things won't always be perfect, but I will never hurt you again." He wiped a small tear collecting in the corner of my eye. "There. Much better. Now why don't you tell me what you were remembering?"  
I sniffed inelegantly. "Do you remember the picnic we took? Or the time you told me about the tiger?"  
He smiled, rubbing my back. "Of course! I could never forget the first time you said you loved me."  
My phone rang from the other room, jarring and shrill. I ignored it, curling in closer to Milos. Just as I thought it went to voice mail, they called again. I sighed. "Let me find out what this is about. Then we can shower and eat. I'm hungry again."  
Milos let me out of his arms, then watched me with his heated gaze as I went to get my phone from the living room. Two missed calls and four emails from a hysterical bride getting married in two days.  
I sighed. So much for a day off. "Milos?" I called, walking back to his room. "Work needs me."  
He nodded. If there was one thing he understood above all else, it was work ethic. "Will I be seeing you for dinner?" He asked, unassumingly.  
"Yes." I replied, a little smile playing at my lips. "This is very domestic of us."  
Milos grinned as he got out of bed. "We are married, my angel. We should be domestic." There was a twinkle in his eye. "I'll arrange for dinner."  
I looked at him suspiciously, but he gave nothing away. "I'm looking forward to it." I replied. And to my waining concern, I was.  
An hour later I sat in my office, waiting for the bride to show up. I'd showered, redone my make up, thrown my hair into an updo, and dressed in a pink knit dress that the Seraphine website swore Kate Middleton owned. Milos was closed in the office when I left, shouting over the phone. I tried to listen in, but he was speaking Russian. All I could understand was "sell", "idiot", and "diamonds".  
I tapped my pen on the desk, wondering what industry he was in. He was selling something. Something big if it was being paid for in diamonds. Maybe he was piecing out his portfolio and selling, like he said he would? Or maybe he was selling diamonds now, smuggling out blood diamonds and passing them off as being ethically sourced. I bit my lip. It was too soon to trust him. I looked up. For all I knew, I was still being monitored.  
As my mood was about to sour, the bride came rushing in, a wild frenzy of tears and pointing fingers. For the next six painful hours we went over each and every thing she wanted, most of which was already in her file. A dull ache began nagging at the back of my head, an excellent counterpoint to the gnawing hunger and subsequent queasiness that assailed me. As the hours wore on it worsened, until I could barely hold my sick in. In desperation, I texted Rafael.  
Need you in office ASAP bring bread sick  
Five minutes of tear filled histrionics from the bride later, Rafael knocked on the door and let himself in.  
"Well hello." He unleashed one of his smiles at the suddenly quiet bride. "I'm Rafael. I co own the hotel."  
She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. She blinked once, twice. Her lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. Poor thing. "This is Eloise, the lovely bride getting married on Saturday." I helped.   
"Wonderful." Rafael nodded. "What can I do for you?"   
The bride finally found her voice. "I just want to make sure everything is perfect." She squeaked out meekly.  
"And it will be." He said, patting her shoulder. She looked like she was about to melt. "Petra, those documents you need for the big meeting are in the hall. Eloise, will you be okay if you and I finish the meeting just the two of us?"  
She nodded. Lucky for her fiancé that Rafael was taken. "Yes, Rafael, thank you for the documents. Eloise, feel free to call me any time. Rafael will keep me apprised of any changes."  
I gathered some papers I didn't actually need and exited. There was a bag of rolls by the door. Shoving one into my mouth, I texted Raf.   
Thank you for the save. I owe you one.   
I grabbed another roll from the bag. With each bite my nausea subsided, with each glorious moment of silence my headache retreated. Slowly I turned and headed back to my suite, using the stairs to avoid seeing anyone.   
I once cried here because I was afraid after Milos had found me. I paid off a blackmailer here. I blackmailed a police officer here. But today it was just a stairwell, bringing me closer to my room, closer to Milos.  
It should have felt so complicated. It should have felt wrong or risky. But as I walked back to my rooms, all I could feel was magnetism, drawing me to him. I put my hand on the doorknob to the suite, pulling it open.


	3. Chapter 3

I watched the gentle sway of her hips back and forth as she departed to her room to change for dinner. Her bravado was impressive, but I could tell she was still tense from the conversation we'd just had.

I dressed myself again, checked the time. Natalia had been a fast dresser, but Petra was not. Some men were irritated when their wives spent excessive time getting ready. I gloried in it. I had been the one to introduce her to luxury, after all.

Nearly seven years ago in Prague, I saw her as I was walking down the street. She was distractingly beautiful, pale skinned with enormous blue eyes and blonde hair that glittered in the sun. I found myself stopping to look at her, and then she lifted her bow. Whatever piece she was performing spoke to me in a way that music never had. It was strong yet sorrowful and she looked raw, completely exposed playing it.

Kindred spirits. It popped into my head, unbidden. I stayed on the fringe, watching her from a distance. At one point an older woman looked at her pointedly, she nodded, and her next song was lively and upbeat. Slowly a smile crept across her face, and my heart constricted. I would do anything for that smile, that music. She was perfect.

I was in love.

I was gone the following month with work, negotiating a small smuggling deal in Germany, but I couldn't get her out of my head. Her eyes, her smile. I tried to reason with myself. She could be rude. She could be stupid. Worst of all, she could be complacent. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself believe it.

I went back to see her upon my return, almost convinced I was imagining how wonderful she had been. Surrounded by snow, she looked like an angel. She played beautifully, as she had before. For one moment at the end of her set, her eyes briefly met mine. The connection was instant, impossible to describe. I was no one to her, but she was suddenly everything to me. I needed her.

The next day I gave her the violin. It cost a small fortune, but it was worth it. As she looked at it, as she ran her fingers across its gleaming surface, I could see her longing. I could see the covetousness burning inside her like it burned in me. She wasn't complacent. Her eyes flicked to mine, questioning.

"It's for you. You play beautifully." At first she looked distrustful. She was smart. Then she thanked me. She wasn't rude. That day her mother ushered her away. But I was there again the next day, and the next. Sometimes to talk with her, sometimes just to watch her play her first luxury item, a gift from me.

One Hour Earlier

I opened the door and stepped inside, nibbling at another roll from my bag. I must have come in quietly because Milos didn't move, didn't look up from the page he was intently reading. He was very handsome. Clean shaven, hair nearly combed, wearing a navy button down with a gunmetal grey suit. One ankle rested on his opposite knee, and he licked his thumb to turn a stubborn page of the thick volume on his lap.

He seemed to read a lot now.

Slowly he grinned, putting a bookmark between the pages and snapping it shut. "How was your crazy bride?" He asked.

Maybe he had heard me come in. I sat down next to him on the couch. "Crazy. Really crazy. She spent forty five minutes talking about rhinestone placement."

"Rhinestone?" Milos wrinkled his nose, then pulled my legs onto his lap. "Like fake diamonds? I don't understand."

I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding as he started to gently massage my calves. "She wants them, and I'm quoting, 'artfully scattered' over her tables. The decorator is threatening to strike. How was your day?"

He let out a deep chuckle. "I'm making appointments to sell parts of my portfolio, as we discussed. Arranged dinner."

When it came to work, he did keep his cards close to his chest. No mention of the shouting match I'd overheard. My eyes flicked to the book on the coffee table. "What are you reading?"

He grinned, his hands creeping higher as he massaged. "The Canterbury Tales. I like it. It relaxes me."

A small smile crossed my lips as his hands brushed my miniscule panties. "What else relaxes you?" I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Our faces closed in on one another, our noses touched. My eyes were drawn to his, full of warmth and caring.

"I love you." He whispered, then covered my mouth with his. Back in Prague, I assumed he was so loving because of his outbursts. I wondered for a moment if this was the apology part in a cycle of abuse or if he was actually like this. Deep, romantic, affectionate. I couldn't be sure.

Deep down, my heart twinged. I wanted this to be real, not some trick to win me back so he could hurt me again. I wished there was some way to know now, but only time would tell. Hopefully sooner rather than later, hopefully before I could fall back in love with him. It would be so easy, so terrifyingly natural to love him again. His generosity, his kindness, his smiles, his goofy ears, his quick wit, his humor. His gentle touches.

I gasped as his mouth descended to my throat, as his hand brushed against the crux of my legs. His fingers seared my skin as they moved skillfully against my body. I instinctively reached for the buttons on his shirt, unfastening them as quickly as I could. I moaned as he shifted my panties aside and a finger delved into me.

"So wet." He murmured against my neck, adding a second finger. I moaned louder, arching up against his hand. A sultry, cat-in-the-cream grin spread across his face. "So needy. I like it."

Before I could react, his fingers started moving inside me, rubbing deliciously. Once again the pleasure mounted inside me quickly, faster than it ever had before. It had to be the pregnancy. My breath came in short gasps, my fingers finally finished the buttons on his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders.

I needed him, wanted more of him. Grabbing the hem of my dress, I pulled it over my head and dropped it next to the couch. Milos took a deep breath, appreciating my matching lace lingerie with his heated gaze. My hands moved to his suit pants, tugging at his belt.

Slowly he withdrew his fingers from me, his hand from my panties. I made a sound in protest, but he just hushed me, sliding my panties down my legs. Finally I managed to get his belt off and unzip his trousers, freeing his erection. He caught my face between his hands and kissed me deeply, as he slowly leaned back across the couch.

I knew exactly what he wanted. I licked my lips, then pulled his pants and boxers off while he watched me hungrily. I was nervous about triggering my gag reflex, especially having been nauseous for most of the day, but my body was humming with want and my mind was muddled with arousal.

Slowly I licked up his shaft, swirling my tongue around the tip. I trailed my tongue down and back up again, teasing him. I got a rush of power, a thrill from doing this. I took him into my mouth suddenly, nearly swallowing his cock. His hands buried in my hair as he called out my name in surprise. Slowly I bobbed my head, sucking every enticing inch as it left my mouth, then kissing the tip as I took it back in.

Milos let loose an impressive litany of Czech profanity as he watched me continue to fellate him. I was impossibly aroused by his reaction, driving me to take him deeper, harder in my throat.

"Wait." He ground out, pulling my head up. "I want to be in you. I want to feel you come around me."

I nodded, climbing astride him. He ran his hands over my swollen breasts, sensually teasing my sensitive nipples, over my round belly, to my hips. I positioned myself over his erection, and slowly slid down onto it. He filled me perfectly, I tossed my head back and let out a moan.

I began to move, up and down. The friction was delicious, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. A thin layer of sweat was covering Milos' body. He was close, barely holding on, his hands vice like on my hips. I caught his eye and reached down, languidly massaging my own clitoris.

Milos picked up the pace, thrusting into me harder, faster, deeper. The pressure inside me mounted until it was white hot, until it was all consuming. Soon I was coming, shouting his name as he pounded into me once more, twice more, before coming himself with a roar.

After a moment of trying to catch my breath I moved off of him, laying my belly between his legs, my head resting on his stomach. We both laid there, breathing heavily in the aftermath. He ran his fingers through my hair, rubbed my back.

"Were you always that amazing?" He mumbled. "How have I lived five years without you."

"Does it bother you?" I asked softly, trailing my fingers up and down his side. "That I've gotten better at... That?"

Milos paused, thought for a moment. "That's a complicated answer. Yes, I am jealous. I don't want to think of you with anyone else." He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. My chest tightened, in a bad way. His jealousy had caused a lot of our issues. "But." Deep breath, in and out. "When I was in anger management, we talked about this. I can't possess another human, I can't control you. You are your own person, and my jealousy cannot be your problem to deal with."

I grabbed his hand with mine and kissed it. A slow warmth spread across my chest. Relief and something else, something I couldn't name. "Thank you." I said simply.

"Anyway, I am mostly angry with myself." I looked up and caught his baleful gaze. "I'm saying this badly. I'm jealous, and also mad at myself. I have no reason to be angry at you, you acted completely reasonably considering my actions. I'm angry at myself for losing you, for losing years together. I will love and raise our girls like they are my own flesh and blood. They will be part of the Dvoracek family, regardless of whether or not you want a divorce in four months. I just sometimes wonder what if things had gone differently in Prague. Would we be married? Would we have children now?"

He didn't know, I realized. Why would I have told him? I mentioned miscarriages in passing, but never the struggle.

"Milos, we may never have had children." He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Four years ago I had a very late miscarriage. I lost many more pregnancies after that. I was told by all the best doctors that I can't carry a child. These girls are a miracle." I trailed off, gently touching my belly.

For a long moment, Milos was quiet. Then tentatively he reached out his hand to mine, laying it on my bump. "I'm sorry you had to suffer those losses." His voice was a hoarse whisper at best. I nodded mutely.

We laid there quietly for five minutes, ten, fifteen. I imagined a different life, what if Milos had gotten help sooner, what if Rafael and I hadn't lost our son. I could mourn the pain, but I couldn't regret anything that brought me to having my girls. I would love, cherish, and protect them every day of their lives. I would never exploit them or use them. I would make up for my mother's mistakes with my love for them.

Finally my stomach gurgled. Milos stopped running his hands through my hair. "Ready for dinner, my angel? If I didn't spoil your appetite."

I couldn't keep thinking about the heavy conversation we'd just had. Instead I smiled coyly. "Dessert before dinner could never spoil my appetite."

He grinned back at me. "Then you should go get dressed, and we can go."

"Of course." I said, getting up and kissing him. I grabbed my panties and dress from the floor, and sauntered back to my room.

I hung my dress on the dry cleaning hanger in the closet and picked a fresh one for dinner. A skin tight, tea length, royal blue tank dress popped out at me. As I changed into it, brushed my teeth, did my hair and touched up my make up, I thought about Milos. I wondered what he was thinking. He said he wanted to stay married past the year, he'd always said that. Would he still want to, knowing I couldn't carry any children of his? Did that even matter? Was I really considering not divorcing him? How did I even feel about him?

I finished dabbing on some make up, and tossed my hair one last time. Right now, in this moment, I was enjoying being with him. For now, that was enough. Things had been hard for so long. I just needed to enjoy things being easy.

I reentered the living room to see him staring into the distance, a smile on his face. Something else new about Milos, he seemed more reflective, more introverted. "I'm ready." I said.

He snapped back into the moment from wherever he was. "A vision, as usual." He said, taking my elbow and kissing me on the cheek.

"Where are we going?" I asked, wrapping my arm around his.

"To dinner." He teased, leading me out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Midnight

I held her hair back as she retched again and again. Finally she sat back, trembling from the exertion.

"Can I get you some water? Are you cold?" She slowly nodded, before fitfully swallowing. I kissed the top of her head, then walked over and grabbed my plush robe from the metal hanger near the shower. For once I was grateful for the cups hotels insist on putting in their bathrooms, as I filled one with water.

I crossed the bathroom back to Petra and slipped the robe onto her arms, over her pale and shaky shoulders, before tying it closed over her bump.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Are you sick?" I asked. "Is it something we ate?"

Her face puckered at the mention of food. "No." She murmured. "Whole pregnancy-" And before she could finish, she launched herself back over the toilet, vomiting again. Even with her stomach emptied, her body continued to violently fight her. Finally she sat back, leaning into my arms.

I kissed her temple lightly. "You're a great mother, Petra. All of this suffering for our girls, and not a word of complaint. They are so lucky to have you."

Feebly she nodded, then closed her eyes and laid her head against my chest. I took the opportunity to enjoy this moment. She could still tell me to go at the end of our year, but for now she was mine. My beautiful, strong, brilliant wife. I was irrevocably in love with her. I would do anything for her, even dismantle my crime syndicate.

My thoughts darkened as I thought about my phone call earlier.

"I'm not getting out, I'm downsizing. I need some liquidity. Arrange the sales. I won't justify my actions to you. I've paid my dues."

"I'm looking out for you, friend. I warned you before you got in that no one gets out."

I looked down at the exhausted, sleeping woman in my arms. She was worth the risk. My family was worth the risk.

Five Hours Earlier

The door clicked softly behind us as we walked down the pale blue halls of the Marbella. We stepped onto an elevator, and were quiet as we continued on through the lobby to his town car.

"I'll have you know the last time I agreed to dinner at an undisclosed location I was kidnapped and brought to a cabin in the Everglades." I said, looking at the open door warily. "So can I have a hint?"

Milos laughed. "No. Was that a plot from one of your telenovelas? It was very specific."

We both slid into our seats. As the door closed behind us, I turned to him. "No, I was kidnapped over Easter weekend of last year. Luckily I got my phone and escaped." I shivered at the memory. Milos' head whipped around.

"What?" He growled fiercely. "Did he hurt you? Are you okay? Was he arrested? Why didn't you tell me?"

For a fraction of a second I was back in Prague, with him screaming at me because it was my fault that men looked at me.

Nausea surged through me as I pulled at the door handle. "Stop the car. I'm getting out." My heart was pounding, there was bile rising in the back of my mouth. I tried to keep my voice cold and firm, but fear seeped through.

"I'm sorry. Petra, I'm sorry." Milos was castigating himself, rubbing his forehead. "Peter, unlock the door!"

There was a click and the door was open, cool air blowing on my face. My immediate panic slowly began to retreat, but my stomach was uneasy. "I have to go." I let him know as I walked as calmly and quickly as I could back to the suite. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, my palms were moist, my throat was tight. I stepped into the living room and grabbed my bag of rolls from earlier, before retreating back into my room and closing the door behind me.

I took off my dress, hung it up, and climbed straight into bed. It felt uncomfortable, lumpy, uninviting, and the room was too bright. A few minutes later I heard the front door open, and soft footsteps stopped outside my door. "Petra." Milos said softly. "I don't know if you're awake, or even in there. But I'm leaving your dinner by the door. I apologize for my reaction. I should have controlled myself. Goodnight."

Then his footsteps were gone, and I heard a door open and close. My stomach grumbled unpleasantly.

Getting out of bed, I padded to the door and quietly opened it, grabbing the basket he'd left. I sat back down on my bed and looked at the contents. All the food from our picnic in the park. My heart squeezed. He remembered, too.

It had been a warm spring day, soon after we began dating. It was the day I'd fallen in love with him over tiny sandwiches, pickles and strawberries out of season.

"A picnic?" I asked, laughing. "You're a bit romantic at heart, aren't you?"

He shook his head, as if surprised. "Not at all. There's just something about you."

His grin was wolfish. I really wanted him to kiss me. We kept walking until we arrived at the small park, more of a green space, really. Milos pulled a blanket out of the basket, and laid it on the grass. I sat, smoothing my skirt as I crossed my ankles demurely.

"You have excellent poise." He complimented. "I could have mistaken you for royalty."

I laughed. "I attended a girls' school. It was in the curriculum."

He gave me that little smile of his as he sat down beside me, our shoulders brushing as he moved. He lifted a jar of pickles, a plate of sandwiches, and an enormous bowl of fresh strawberries from the basket.

"Strawberries!" I exclaimed. "Out of season. Those must have cost a fortune."

"I thought you'd like them. A small luxury." He shrugged, but I could tell that I had pleased him.

"Well thank you." I said, turning my face to his. I hadn't realized how close we were. Our noses were almost touching. Slowly he lifted a hand to my cheek, cupping it. Our eyes met, and I felt like I could drown in those warm brown depths. I let my eyes close as his lips met mine in a tender, lingering kiss. It was like magic, everything clicked into place, everything felt so right.

I was in love.

Back in my room, my heart was heavy. I put the food and the basket by the side of my bed, and laid back down. As I tried to fall asleep, a small part of me longed for the blue room down the hall. Or maybe just its occupant.

I woke up hours later, acutely aware of a sudden, pressing urge to vomit. I flung back my covers and rushed to the bathroom, ignoring my state of undress. I barely made it, spilling the meager contents of my stomach into the toilet. As I retched and heaved, it occurred to me that I'd been foolish eating so little yesterday. Soon rushed footsteps joined me in the bathroom.

"Petra, are you okay?" I heaved again, gagging. I was shivering, my hair was in my face. Immediately he came and kneeled beside me, holding back my hair. "Do you need a doctor?"

I shook my head side to side, setting off another round of vomiting. He lightly rubbed my back as convulsions wracked me. I couldn't stop shaking, even after the heaving subsided.

"Do you need water? Are you cold?" I barely managed to nod up and down. He kissed the top of my head, then returned with a cup of water and his warm robe. It was enormous and plush, overwhelming my small frame. It smelled like him. My heart constricted. It hurt.

"Thank you." I managed to get out.

"Are you sick?" He asked. "Is it something you ate?"

Food. Nausea stirred within me, my stomach churned at the thought. "No." I murmured. "Whole pregnancy-"

Bile rose quickly into my mouth, and I lunged back at the toilet, vomiting again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of shaking and gagging, I felt well enough to move away from the toilet.

Not thinking, not caring, I sank back into Milos' arms, leaning against him. He was warm and stable, at least in this way. He kissed the side of my head. "You're a great mother, Petra. All of this suffering for our girls, and not a word of complaint. They are so lucky to have you."

I nodded weakly, then dropped my head against his chest and closed my eyes. Our girls. It kept echoing through my head. Our girls. Ours.

I woke again when she sun was up, streaming into the room. I was warm, relaxed. One of my hands was entwined with Milos', his other hand rested on my belly. His chest rose and fell calmly behind me, his heartbeat was a steady thumping in my ear.

"Good morning." He said quietly. "Feeling any better?"

I startled. "I thought you were sleeping. Yes, I'm feeling better. But if I don't eat in the next fifteen minutes, I'll get sick again." I paused, thinking. "The food from last night would be perfect."

Carefully Milos lifted me and stood. Once again it was like I was weightless to him. He carried me back to my room, gently sitting me on the bed and handing me the basket. "Can I get you anything?" He asked earnestly.

I shook my head, and he turned to go. My heart lurched. "Wait." I blurted out. "Stay. If you want. I mean, thank you. For last night. And this morning. And the food."

He turned around, a grin splitting his face. He looked so happy. "I would love to stay." He said. "Are you sick like that often?"

I shook my head, biting into another sandwich. "Not much any more. I didn't eat enough yesterday. I have to eat every fifteen minutes."

"I can't imagine you eating that often. You've never been much of a glutton." I shrugged, finishing my sandwich and grabbing a pickle.

"Call it a survival skill." I replied.

For a moment, Milos looked almost uncomfortable. "About your survival skills. I'm sorry about my reaction yesterday. It was excessive. I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have questioned you like it was your fault. I should have breathed until I was calm. Sometimes it's hard to calm down in the moment." Milos paused, then continued quietly. "I was on the phone with my counselor last night. That's why I heard you run to the bathroom. She thinks I should take a seminar about the repercussions of emotional and verbal abuse, to better understand what you live with. She thinks it will help me stop and think in the future."

"What do you think about that?" I asked him.

"I don't think I want to know how badly I hurt you." His body language was stiff, he kept fidgeting with the strawberry in his hands. "It will be difficult, but I signed up."

I looked him in the eyes. "It's hard for me, too, when you lose control. It was like I was back in Prague, I basically relived when you used to yell at me. I'm not ready to say if I want to try 'us' again. I don't know if I can ever feel safe loving you again. But I won't consider it if you can't keep yourself under control. I've lived in fear, and I will never do it again, Milos. Ever."

I hadn't meant to tip my hand, but it all rushed out of me in a cathartic surge.

"But you've considered it?" He asked in a reserved tone, but I could see through it.

"Yes." I replied slowly. "I have."

He moved closer. Our noses were almost touching. Slowly he lifted a hand to my cheek, cupping it. Our eyes met, and I felt like I could drown in those warm brown depths. I let my eyes close as his lips met mine in a tender, lingering kiss. Warmth spread through me, a familiar sweetness.

"You smell, my darling." Milos breathed out. I started to laugh.

"I don't know what you were expecting. You were there!" My eyes moved back to his, my blood heated in my veins. "Let's take a bath. I'll brush my teeth."

His grin was infectious as we went back to the bathroom and filled the tub. I brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash, while he undressed and checked the temperature. Milos got in the tub first, then beckoned for me to join, sitting in front of him.

As soon as I sat down his hands were on me, lightly tracing over my skin. I moaned softly, rubbing up against him, turning my head so our mouths could meet. "Much better." He murmured with a little smile, before his lips melted against mine again.

Grabbing a wash cloth, he covered it with soap and slowly rubbed down every inch of my body. My neck, my arms, my back, my breasts. His hands coaxed my legs apart, running the soapy cloth lightly up and down my thighs. As one of his hands used a cup to rinse my skin of soap, his other hand ventured to my sex.

Soon a finger was teasing my clitoris and another was slipping between my feminine folds and entering me. I moaned at the welcome intrusion, lifting my hips to meet his ministrations.

"Oh, Milos." I sighed, surrendering myself to the sensations. His mouth was hot on my neck and shoulder, sucking, licking, and biting.

"Do you want me?" He asked, those hands of his playing me like an instrument.

"Yes." I hissed, clutching the sides of the tub. I sat forward on my knees and lowered myself onto his cock. He filled me perfectly, stretching me pleasantly. "Ah, you feel good." I murmured.

"Not as good as you." He replied, nuzzling the back of my neck. His hands ran up my body to my breasts, cupping them and teasing my nipples. I was slowly moving up and down, luxuriating in the pleasure it brought me.

The pressure inside me grew slowly, steadily, until Milos was all I could feel, until he was everything in my world. His hands were stroking me mercilessly, touching me until my entire body felt like it was on fire for him. He was the only thing I wanted, the only thing I cared about.

"Milos!" I gasped, calling out his name as I got closer, then as the force of my release shook my body. He followed close behind me, wrapping his arms around me and crushing me to him as he poured himself into me.

I moved so my legs were once again stretched out in front of me. We laid there for a while, with me still wrapped in his arms. "You don't have to worry. About the kidnapper." I said quietly. "I killed him. It was an accident, but I killed him."

"I'm sorry." Milos replied quietly, rubbing a hand over my stomach. "I know how hard it is, living with that. I wish I had been able to protect you."

I laid my hand on his, gently rubbing his thumb with mine. "It's not your responsibility. It was my actions, and my consequences."

He took a deep breath in and out. "You are my wife, my angel, everything good in my life. It is my responsibility to keep you safe. And unless you asked to be kidnapped, there's nothing you could ever do to deserve it."

I was thankful for the spaciousness of the tub as I moved to lie next to him. "We weren't married then." I reminded him.

"But I knew we would be. I've always known." He responded simply.

My mouth sought out his while my hand caressed his face. Love seemed to come so easily to him. I couldn't seem to understand it, how five years going by could leave his affections so unchanged.

"Petra?" We heard Rafael calling for me from the entrance of the suite. "Petra? You're not answering your phone. Are you okay?"

I groaned quietly, then called back. "I'm fine, I'm just in the bath. I'll be at the noon meeting."

"Do you want me to wait? It's in thirty minutes."

"No, it's okay. I'll see you there!" I let out a deep breath as I heard him leave. Milos was frowning. "What?"

"You didn't want him to know I was in here."

"No, I didn't." I agreed, getting out of the tub and grabbing a towel. "You should have seen the money Rafael offered me to keep you away from the girls. I don't want this to become an issue before it needs to be."

For one fleeting moment he looked hurt. Certainly not the anger or irrational jealousy I was expecting. "When will it need to be an issue?" He asked reasonably.

"I'm not sure." I replied honestly. "If we both survive the next six months, we can talk about it then."

He nodded, then wrapped me in his arms. "Six months, then. It's an improvement on the four months we would have had left as people in a tax shelter marriage."

I could see it in his eyes, in his smile. Hope.


	5. Chapter 5

Her head rested on my shoulder, her hands were on her belly as I read to her.

" 'What giants?' Asked Sancho Panza.

'The ones you can see over there,' answered his master, 'with the huge arms, some of which are very nearly two leagues long.' "

I watched as her eyes drooped closed, watched as her breathing became deep and regular. I kept reading.

" 'Now look, your grace,' said Sancho, 'what you see over there aren't giants, but windmills, and what seems to be arms are just their sails, that go around in the wind and turn the millstone.' "

Suddenly I felt it, the smallest nudge near my arm, almost a poke. I stopped reading and looked down. For a fraction of a second I could see a tiny foot through the gap between the edge of my shirt and where her pajama pants began.

"Hello, girls." I said softly. "I'm Papa Milos. Do you like hearing my voice?" Nothing. "I know, your mother has a nicer voice. You should hear her play the violin. She's amazing."

I looked up to see if I was interrupting Petra's sleep. She was still breathing slowly and evenly. I pressed a finger against her bump, where the feet had been. Suddenly they returned, kicking my hand with force.

"Look at my girls." I murmured. "Strong, just like your Mama. Maybe when you're older you can come learn martial arts with me."

I was not one to daydream, but I could imagine it. Two little copies of Petra, learning to defend themselves. It was an alluring picture of my future. Looking back at my sleeping wife, I decided to carry her to bed. I considered my options, she'd probably prefer to sleep in her own room. Lifting her into my arms, I carried her to the bed in the pink room.

"No, don't leave. Need you." She said sleepily as I tried to put her down. I couldn't help the frisson of excitement that ran through me. I stood back up with her still in my arms, and brought her to the blue room with me. She clung to me as I laid down with her on the bed.

"I love you, Petra." I whispered to her.

"Mm, you too." She whispered back, laying her head on my shoulder. And though she'd been talking in her sleep, I was certain she meant it.

Earlier That Day

It was four in the afternoon, and I was sure the meeting was never going to end. One of the board members was droning on and on about something. Overhead? Catering? Something. He'd been talking for almost four hours. I took another sip of my water. I was so hungry.

"As you can see from this slide," Another pie graph appeared on the screen. I looked around the conference table, everyone seemed as clueless as I was. Why was this presentation so long? The girls weren't moving much, either. He probably bored them to sleep. I wondered what Milos was doing. Certainly not sitting through a board meeting.

"In conclusion," The insufferable man continued. The other people in the room perked, but I refused to get my hopes up for the end of this presentation. Forty five minutes later, he was actually done. Rafael turned to me.

"I can't believe it's already five. Want to grab dinner with me?" It certainly wasn't an unusual invitation. He was lonely, I was lonely. Or I had been, until two days ago.

I rolled my eyes. "Raincheck? This meeting means I had to push back my pre rehearsal meeting with Miss Crazy."

He laughed. "Good luck with that. Call if you need me again."

I snapped my folder closed, smirking. "Her fiancé will be there. The last thing we need is a reprisal of Melee at the Marbella."

I left the room, making my way to the elevator. My phone flashed as I waited, an email from Miss Crazy. She needed to reschedule the meeting for tomorrow morning, fine by me. I took the elevator up, back towards my rooms.

"I'm home." I called out, wandering through the apparently vacant suite. I wondered where Milos was. How had I come to miss his presence so quickly? I'd always had my mother around, I reasoned with myself. I wasn't used to being alone, that was all. Rubbing my belly, I grabbed the bowl of strawberries from this morning and brought them to the living room for a snack. I was still hungry. Then I sat down and started to check my email.

About thirty minutes later there was a click as the door opened, and the most delicious aroma invaded the room. I peeked over the back of the couch, and my mouth went dry. Milos was standing there in a tight blue t-shirt, carrying a take out box of pizza with two enormous cups balancing on it.

"What is all that?" I asked, an involuntary smile spreading across my face. He walked over to me, gave me a quick kiss.

"I was at boxing and mentioned wanting to do something nice for my gorgeous pregnant wife. The men said I should get you pizza and a chocolate milkshake, that their wives all loved that. So change out of that beautiful dress, put on your coziest pajamas, and come have pizza and milkshakes with me. Then we can watch the telenovelas you don't think I know you record."

I stood up, wrapping my arms around his neck as he put the box down on the coffee table. "Why don't you take my dress off for me?" I whispered in his ear, pressing my body to his. He ran his hands up my thighs, up my sides, to my neck, then let down my hair and pulled down the zipper on the back of my dress.

"It would be my pleasure." He murmured against the back of my neck, as he slowly peeled the tight pink dress off me. He sucked in a breath at the sight of my black lace push up bra and matching panties. I could feel his erection stirring against me, sending a thrill through my body.

Milos grabbed my hand and led me around to the back of the couch, a small smirk playing across his face as I stood with my legs against it. Then he kissed me, deeply, while his hand pushed my thighs apart. A finger slid under my panties, gently rubbing. I moaned at the contact, my hands clutching his shoulders.

"How does fast and hard sound my darling?" He murmured.

I nodded, making unintelligible noises as two of his long fingers entered me while his thumb continued its sensual assault on my clitoris. I arched my body closer to his, felt his erection pushing at my side.

"Milos, I need you now!" I was nearly begging and too aroused to care. I wanted more.

He dropped his lips to mine, kissing me deeply for a moment. Then he gently put his hands on my hips and turned me around, so I was leaning against the couch.

"Spread those beautiful legs so I can come between them." He whispered filthily.

I immediately did as I was told, and was rewarded with the head of his cock pressing against me.

"Tell me if it's too hard." He said, then surged into me. I immediately called out his name, my entire body clenching around him. He felt amazing, filling me perfectly, hitting every achy spot in me.

His thrusts were hard and deep, coming faster and faster. I could feel myself getting closer to my orgasm with every passing second. Milos moved one hand from my hip around to my sweet spot. I ground my hips against his fingers as he moved in and out of me, my moans getting louder by the moment.

I could feel Milos' hot breath on my back, his skin on mine, his hands on me, and then I was coming, calling out his name over and over as he came with me, tumbling over the precipice together.

"You are a goddess." My husband said, kissing me on the cheek and withdrawing from me.

"You're pretty amazing yourself." I said, still catching my breath. "That was exactly what I needed."

He nodded in agreement, before pulling away so I could stand fully upright again. I kissed him one last time, then picked up my dress and walked back to my room. I put it in the dry cleaning pile, grabbed a camisole and pulled on my favorite flannel pajama pants. Then I groaned.

"What is wrong, my darling?" Milos was leaning against the door frame in his shirt and shorts, grinning.

I turned to face him, about four inches of belly visible between my camisole and my pants. "This shirt used to fit."

He came over to me, laid his hands on my bump. "You've never looked more beautiful. Even better than I imagined."

That warm feeling tickled my heart again. I gave him a little smile. "Thank you. Let me just change."

For a fleeting moment, a strange look crossed his face. "Wear my shirt. It's clean."

I almost laughed until I saw he was serious. Instead I found myself nodding. "Okay. If it fits."

That grin of his was back. He pulled off his shirt and handed it to me as I removed my unfortunately short camisole. His shirt was soft and warm. As I pulled it over my head I spent a moment wrapped in his scent, manly and clean. It was nearly intoxicating, not that I would let him know.

"It fits." I said, surprised. Milos was quiet, just staring at me. "What, should I take it off?"

"No!" He said suddenly. His voice was a little hoarse. "I like it. A lot. May I?"

His hand was outstretched towards my belly. I nodded my assent, and he lightly touched it. At first with just his fingertips, then with both palms. Slowly his hands moved around, exploring the incredible girth of my pregnancy. I hoped one of the girls would move for him, but they didn't. Milos didn't seem to care. He was gazing at my bump with an expression I had only seen when Rafael looked at Mateo. Love, devotion, something else. He was looking at my stomach like a proud father.

My throat felt a little tight. "I'll leave your shirts on more often." I managed. My heart was thumping in my chest.

"Let's get you fed." Milos replied solicitously. There were no words for how much I appreciated him not commenting on my emotional state.

We went back to the living room, each taking a slice of pizza. I took one bite and my stomach churned unpleasantly.

I put it down on my plate and picked up my milkshake instead. It was cool and sweet. It was the most delicious thing I think I'd ever consumed. Milos lifted a brow, then took my slice of pizza and pushed his milkshake towards me.

"Keep moaning and I'm likely to get jealous of that." He teased gently.

"You have to try it." I insisted. "It's incredible."

He took a sip. "It's very good."

Maybe his was defective. I took another sip of mine. It was still the best thing I'd ever tasted.

"What are we watching?" Milos asked, turning on the DVR.

"Tiago." I answered. "The one closest to the bottom."

The show started with the cheesy opening credits and launched into an episode about the King of Spain. "So what do I need to know?" He asked.

"He's a time traveling cobbler." I replied. "Don't over think it."

Throughout the episode I snuck peeks at the man next to me. He raised an eyebrow as Tiago seduced Katherine of Aragon, laughed a little at one of the King's overreactions. Finally it was over.

"So this is what you watch." Milos said dubiously as the credits rolled.

Heat tinged my cheeks. "It's no Passions of Santos, but I like it. It makes more sense if you've seen more than one episode."

His brows furrowed for a second. "Santos? That sounds familiar."

I took a long drink of milkshake, looking anywhere but at him. "Ivan used to watch it with Mother and I. I'm sorry for your loss, by the way. I know you were close."

He took one of my hands in his, lightly squeezing. "It's not your fault. If it hadn't been Magda, it would have been someone else. But thank you."

"I was a little surprised you didn't kill him yourself after finding out about it all."

A short, barking laugh escaped him. "I considered it. But I would have done the same thing had the situation been reversed. And from what I hear, you two punished him enough."

I rolled my eyes. "We fed him lobster and let him watch TV. He was hardly shut up in the Gulag."

Milos kissed me softly on the cheek. "Thank you for taking care of him. It was very kind."

I put my mostly empty milkshake down, then curled up against him the best that my belly would allow. "Let's not give me too much credit."

"I don't think anyone has ever given you enough credit, Petra." Milos murmured against my hair. My eyes were barely staying open.

"Read to me?" I asked.

He nodded, then grabbed one his books from coffee table. "Have you ever read Don Quixote?"

I shook head.

"Well you're in luck, I'm at best part." Milos' eyes were glittering with mirth. Something fluttered inside me, probably one the girls moving. "Destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected. Look there, Sancho Panza, my friend, and see those thirty or so wild giants, with whom I intend to do battle and kill each and all of them..."

His voice was strong and clear, rumbling through his chest and against my face. I felt warm, safe, satiated, comfortable. Then sleep took me.


	6. Chapter 6

I held her hand tightly, her head tucked under my chin. The blue lowlights the room highlighted her pale skin. She was almost leaning on me, the closest thing to weakness she would allow herself to show. I wanted to bring her home, to tuck her in bed, to keep her safe and comfortable. But I wouldn't insult her with the suggestion. She would finish the event. She was strong and determined.  
I was determined, too. I had strong offers on everything I had put up for sale. The names of my contacts, my suppliers, the people who worked for me, entire warehouses of guns and bombs. In only two days there were buyers for every aspect my syndicate. It should have taken months to move that much product. It was more than something to be suspicious about, it was almost certainly an ambush. But if I didn't go there, they would come to find me. I couldn't put Petra at risk.  
So I accepted the meetings. I would fly out tomorrow afternoon. There was a significant likelihood I wouldn't make it back. I kissed the top of Petra's head. She was all I wanted, the only thing that had ever made me happy. I would do it for her. I was determined.  
-Petra-  
My alarm went off the next morning at 5:45am. The decorators would start arriving and setting up at seven for the ceremony at three this afternoon. The reception would end just before midnight. It was going to be a very long day.   
I turned to my left, where Milos was still asleep. It was unusual, seeing him sleeping. He stayed up late and awoke early. He had this amazing ability, or he did in Prague, of sitting quietly in the dark. It didn't sound like much, but it was. Almost like meditation, but instead of nothing he thought about problem solving at work. He would lay beside me, thinking for hours. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and he would still be awake, staring intently at the ceiling. Sometimes he would ask me an odd question, 'do you think a led lined football would arouse suspicions at customs' or 'would you find a Russian grandmother or an English tourist less suspicious'.   
For a career criminal, he was brilliant. In another life he could have been a world class CEO. But that was not the life either of us was dealt. I wondered what he would think about when his criminal portfolio was gone. Maybe he would sleep better.  
He looked tense even at rest. Fine lines were furrowed on his forehead, near his eyes. His jaw was set, making him look strangely unapproachable. I wondered what he looked like as a baby. How he slept. Was he fussy, happy, sleepy? He probably didn't know.  
I looked at the clock again, 6:05. I'd spent twenty minutes staring at him. I needed to get up, but I didn't want to. I wanted to watch him sleep for a change. His chest rose and fell steadily. Old feelings stirred in my chest. Had it really only been three and a half days? It felt like much longer.  
Slowly a smile crept across his face. "Shouldn't you be getting dressed, Darling?"  
Strangely, I felt a little cheated. I thought I was watching him sleep. He must have been sleeping for part of it, at least. His eyes finally opened, like some sort of ridiculous Cheshire cat. I kissed him.  
"I was just going." I said haughtily, masking my embarrassment. "I'll be back late tonight, around midnight."  
Milos stretched and sat up while I twisted my hair into a chignon and pinned it into place with the bobby pins I kept forgetting on the bedside table. It was a bit of a talent of mine, doing elaborate hair styles with few pins and no mirror.  
I headed for my room and started applying my make up. Foundation, bronzer, blush, eye liner, eyeshadow. As I finished my mascara and brushed on my finishing powder, Milos came in with an enormous platter of fruit, toast, cheese, and cold cuts. He made himself at home on my bed like he'd always lived here.  
"A real European breakfast." I said appreciatively. I felt like I could eat the entire feast myself.  
"You have a busy day. I don't want you getting sick again."  
I laughed a little as I joined him and  started putting meat on my toast. "You make it sound like I found it enjoyable."  
He chewed on his toast for a moment before replying. "I am overly protective. It is my nature. There are a lot of things I have changed about myself, but being protective will never be one of them."  
I laid my hand on his for a moment. "I don't need protecting, Milos."  
"I know." He conceded. "You've never needed me like I need you. But as long as you don't find it overly objectionable, it makes me happy to protect you."  
A frisson of guilt swept through me. I hadn't considered making Milos happy. I just assumed spending time together was enough for him. In retrospect, it was a fairly vain assumption on my part. It was one of the ways he showed affection. He provided things, generous things. A violin for busking protected me from starving. A hotel protected me when I was homeless. Food when I would have otherwise forgotten protected me from sickness. His big gestures were never meaningless. He was thoughtful, carefully considering my needs every step of the way.   
"You're right." I agreed, before kissing him lightly. "Thank you for taking care of me. And the girls."  
He looked genuinely pleased as he grabbed some cheese and I stepped back into my closet to dress. My floor length, Grecian inspired evening gown was comfortable at least. I wasn't thrilled with it, but there weren't many designers who made maternity lines. Eloise had been very clear that I was to dress black tie at her event.  
"You look amazing." Milos said kindly as I entered the room.  
"I look like a late nineties bridesmaid. Or a pregnant sorority girl at her formal." I replied fairly acerbically.  
He shook his head, frowning. "You look like a strong, beautiful, intelligent, very pregnant woman. More cheese?"  
"No, I have to go." I paused. "But thank you. I really do appreciate it."  
The next few hours were a blur of activity, yelling, organizing, keeping everything running ahead of schedule. The bride showed up every two hours to make sure everything was up to her exacting standards. Finally everything was ready. Professional up lighting and low lighting was on, tens of thousands of dollars in flowers were arranged in massive centerpieces. They even had chandeliers brought in and hung. I made my way to the grand ceremony space, wondering how seven hours had passed so quickly. The guests were mostly arrived and seated in only the best Chiavari chairs. I turned towards the Bridal Suite and quietly let myself in. The photographer was taking pictures of her bridesmaids putting on Eloise's shoes. She stood when she saw me, revealing her dress. It was a gaudy affair, overly saturated with rhinestones and sheer panels.   
"What a beautiful bride!" I nearly cooed. "Such a statement dress. Just wanted to give you the fifteen minute warning you requested."  
She nodded happily, turning back to the photographer. Thank goodness. Things picked up after that, the ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, then I made sure the bride was happy during photos while the guests were happy during a cocktail 'hour' that was closer to three.  
After a minor meltdown over the cake's location by the bride--didn't I know she wanted the cake by the window, she must have said it a thousand times-- the reception was going beautifully. The decorator apparently did a fantastic job 'artfully' scattering the rhinestones, dinner and cake had gone smoothly, and now everyone was dancing.  
I looked at the bride and groom. I had little faith in the longevity of their union. Though who was I to judge, with a divorce after four years and a blackmail marriage likely to end after one, one and a half with the extension. Maybe that's why I felt so skeptical of her marriage, her wedding looked like mine, both of them. Grandiose spectacles of wealth. Hopefully her groom wouldn't suddenly stop loving her. Or surprise her with grenades after the reception.  
I grabbed a piece of cake off a passing waiter's tray. Fourteen hours without food was a terrible mistake. My stomach felt uneasy. I nibbled at one corner, but the cake was too sweet. I couldn't eat it.  
Suddenly there was a hand on my waist. I nearly jumped surprise.  
"Hungry?" A familiar voice asked. "I have your favorite."  
Milos stood next to me, blending into the crowd with his dark suit. I couldn't help but smile a little.  
"You know I can't leave." I said regretfully.  
"Just five minutes." Milos promised. "I have something set up for you."  
I looked around the room, saw the bride in the middle of the dance floor. "I really shouldn't." I said. My stomach protested. I really needed food. "Five minutes."  
We left through the service entrance, heading towards the kitchen manager's office near the rear of the hotel. It was quiet, set back from the appliances and away from the event's blaring music. Inside was a large desk and a two person round table generally used to demonstrate different linen and china settings. The round had two candles on it, and a few boxes.  
"I got all your favorites." Milos said, taking my hand in his and kissing it. "Watermelon salad, spinach salad, lamb chops, stuffed peppers, and some Kolache for dessert. I left everything in containers so no smells bother you."  
The pregnancy hormones were killing me. I blinked back some mistiness my eyes and coughed to loosen my suddenly tight throat.  
"That's very thoughtful of you." I managed. "Thank you."  
"You're welcome." He murmured, before lightly kissing me.   
Something seemed just a little off about him, but before I could ask he was leading me to my chair and pushing it in beneath me. We each plated some food, but Milos didn't seem to actually be eating his.  
"I have some news." He began. "Apparently there has been a lot of interest in my less savory pursuits. I fly out tomorrow afternoon to start sales meetings."  
"Oh." My voice was so calm. I wanted to feel as easy as voice sounded. "Will you be back soon?"  
"Two weeks, no more than a month. I will rush back if you go into labor."  
He might miss the birth. It felt like the floor beneath my feet had somehow vanished. I'd just gotten used to him being here, and he was leaving. I was enjoying good presence, our time together. Someone who liked being around me, no matter what mood I was in.   
I wanted him to be there, I realized. At the birth. I wanted someone to be there who loved me, someone who had my interests at heart. I had finally let Rafael and his Jane obsession go, Mother was in jail. Milos was all I had for support. I found myself suddenly rather nauseous, which was ridiculous since we'd barely spoken before four days ago. There was a knock at the door.  
"Mrs Solano?" A nervous waiter asked, sticking his head into the room. "The bride is looking for you. She's upset."  
"I'll be right there." I snapped. The waiter scurried back out. I stood abruptly, tossing my napkin over my still mostly full plate. "We should get back."   
Milos nodded. "Of course."  
We walked stiffly side by side back to the grand ballroom. I was immediately accosted by a nearly hysterical, very drunk Eloise.  
"Can we add any time? We'll party, I mean pay, extra."  
I forced a pleasant smile to my face. "Unfortunately noise ordinances prohibit digital music after midnight without a special permit. But if you can find a band or celebrate without music, you are absolutely free to continue the party until two in the morning. Alternatively, we can arrange limousines for yourself and your guests to attend a club or party playing until two."  
She pouted. "Fine, set up the limo thing. We'll go at ten."  
A weight lifted off my chest. A two hour reprieve, only one hour left. "Of course. I'll see to it."  
The bride left and I pulled out my phone to text our on call limousine service.   
"Should I go?" Milos asked politely.   
"No--" I don't want you to leave. Not now, not tomorrow. "--Here's a clipboard. Hold it and look authoritative."  
I looked out over the crowd, at all the people dancing without a care in the world. That had never been me. Maybe for a short time with Rafael I had gotten close, but danger and disaster had always been nearby. My constant companions. Nothing could ever be easy.  
"Mrs Solano? I think your name may be outdated." His voice was teasing, trying to bring me out of the dark mood I had fallen into.  
"I wasn't exactly expecting Mrs Dvoracek to be a lasting title, remember? It was easier not to change it." I shrugged noncommittally.  
"And yet you wear your wedding band." He looked down at the clipboard with a smirk.  
"Or maybe I get fewer dirty looks when I wear it." I offered. To my surprise, he laughed.  
"Then they clearly don't know the story behind your pregnancy and marital situation."  
His cocked eyebrow and wry grin was just what I needed.  
"You're right, I should really take it off." I quipped back.  
"Never." He growled playfully, kissing my cheek behind the clipboard I'd given him. "Maybe we can negotiate your last name upon my return?"   
He subtly moved to catch my hand in his. I laced our fingers together.  
"Maybe. Six months, remember?"   
Moving in closer to him, I leaned against his chest. Milos dropped his chin to rest lightly on my head. He was quiet for a long while, just standing behind me. Finally he pressed a kiss to my scalp.  
"I love you, Petra." His voice was tinged with something, perhaps sadness or longing. "I always have. I always will."  
"I know." I murmured back, not sure if he could hear me.


	7. Chapter 7

The clock on the bedside table illuminated the room in green, the numbers stared at me. Two thirty six am. Two thirty seven. Two thirty eight. I watched my wife sleep. Our time together was running out, one green digit at a time. I watched her slowly breathe in and out. She trusted me. Somehow, after everything, she trusted me. God, I loved her.

Breathe in, breathe out. I turned my head to look at the ceiling. This time tomorrow I would be looking at a hostel ceiling in Russia. Hostels were safer, four or six people in every room. Everything was lined up; meetings, banking numbers, hostels, transportation. Twenty hour work days for almost two weeks, travel spanning three continents and twelve countries. Almost two hundred million dollars to be made.

But the money didn't matter any more. I was so close to having a family. Everything I ever wanted was laying beside me. But to have it all, I had to risk it all. So there wasn't a real choice for me.

Petra

Soon the limousines arrived and the guests headed back to their rooms or to a party at a nearby club. I directed the cleaning crews, made sure everything was organized. At some point Milos disappeared into the crowd, possibly dealing with a work call. He moved like a cat, quiet and stealthy.

I said good night to the ballroom manager who would oversee the cleaning until everything was pristine, until it was like Eloise's wedding had never even happened. Then I made my way upstairs. My back and feet were aching, my stomach felt like it was trying to detach from my body. Relief swept through me as I unlocked the door to our suite. I was finally home and the shower was close. Milos was not back yet, but I was too tired to be concerned with where he was.

Making my way to the bathroom I stripped off my dress and underpinnings, leaving them in a trail on the floor. I never treated clothes so roughly, but I was never going to wear any of it again. Not the ugly dress or the maternity lingerie set. I could afford to replace clothing I hated now. I stepped into the blissfully hot shower then closed my eyes and put my face under the torrent of water, breathing out. It felt heavenly.

A small puff of cold air on my back was my only warning that Milos had joined me before his long arms wrapped around me.

"I missed you." He murmured against my neck.

"You just saw me thirty minutes ago." I reminded him.

His hands rubbed gently over my stomach, then retreated to lather up a washcloth for me. We carefully traded places, laughing as my belly nudged him as I passed. I looked at him and my laughter stopped. There were moments when Milos was breathtaking, and this was one of them.

It was almost easy to forget how incredibly handsome he was, especially with those big, goofy smiles he was so fond of. He looked like a model as he stood under the warm spray, rivulets running down his square jaw, his broad shoulders, his toned torso and perfectly flat stomach. The muscles in his arms flexed as he lightly scratched his scalp. He turned his head and smiled as he caught my gaze. Not his usual grin, but a slow, sultry smirk.

Two weeks into dating Milos-the first time, in Prague- Mother and I had a kitchen sink suddenly stop draining. We called the super who never bothered to fix it. We couldn't afford a handyman. We didn't have the tools to fix it, and thanks to my mother's charming personality our neighbors weren't inclined to help us.

Milos came over one day in one of his fine suits, though I was wearing one of my four threadbare, painfully old skirts. I mentioned our broken sink over the lunch I was careful to save half of, and he offered to fix it.

Mother sneered at my leftovers and Milos' offer, but took both and left for a walk with some derogatory remark.

"Sorry about her." I apologized.

He smiled reassuringly at me in that way he had, like I was his moon and stars. "Don't worry, I'll win her over. Anything for my girl."

I cleaned out the cupboard below the sink as he took off his suit coat, tie, and button down shirt. He was wearing a solid back undershirt that honestly just looked like a t shirt to me. To this day I'm not sure how or when he got a wrench, but he started working on the piping below the sink.

I told him a funny story about my early busking days, how I once fainted and everyone was so concerned they forgot to tip. Mother had been furious, demanding I never faint again. I laughed, but he didn't.

"She should have taken better care of you." He said gruffly, turning the wrench. "You should never have been made to work all day in the sun, and without food? I-"

His words were cut off as the pipe dislodged and water came pouring down on him. Quickly he pulled off his shirt, holding it to the stream of water and staving it off. I rushed to grab the wastebasket from the bathroom, then brought it back to him. He positioned it under the pipe and removed his shirt, letting the water pour in as he climbed out from under the sink.

"You're wet." I said softly, running my fingers along his jawline. It was the first time I saw him shirtless.

He was exceptionally lean then, with the lithe and wiry frame of a brawler, of someone who was fast on their feet. He was distracting in his partial nudity. He was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

"I smell." He said, wrinkling his nose.

"The sink has been clogged for at least a week." I answered apologetically. "You can use our shower, if you'd like?"

One of his hands caught mine. His eyes twinkled. A sultry smirk played across his face.

"Only if you come with me. Petra. Petra." His voice intruded on my memories. "Petra? You're staring."

I blinked until the memory was gone and Milos was back focus. I'm not sure what came over me, if it was how he looked or the memories or my raging hormones. I took a step closer to him, grabbed his hips, and dropped to my knees in front of him. He looked confused for a moment as I pinned him against the shower wall, then understanding took hold as I took the length of him into my mouth, sucking hard and fast.

Garbled noises escaped his throat as I brought him deeper into mine, flicking my tongue against the underside of his shaft. One hand held my hair while the other desperately sought purchase against the shower door. He was moaning, his knees were shaking, and still I sucked him with all the passion in me.

Oral sex had been a power move for me, a way to get something I wanted. I used it like a bargaining chip for extending my marriage, getting money from Lachlan, for a thousand other things. I'd never needed to bargain with Milos, though. Maybe that's why I was enjoying this so much. He offered things before I realized I needed them. Fruit in winter, fixing my sink. His constant love.

And he did love me. Loved me with a ferociousness, a passion that wasn't tempered by time or distance. The first person who ever loved me for who I was, not what I could do for them. The only thing he had ever wanted in return was for me to love him back. And that was hardly a request, how could I not love him?

Within five minutes his entire body was trembling, and then he was shouting my name, coming into my throat and I was swallowing it like the wonton woman he turned me into. With him I wasn't a man-eater or conniving or manipulative. With him, I was just me. And he loved me for it.

"Thank you." Milos murmured as he turned off the water and helped me back to my feet.

He brushed his lips to mine as he wrapped a towel around me. I rubbed my shoulder against him while we brushed our teeth. Finally we retreated to the bedroom together. I pulled on a silk nightgown while he preferred to sleep in the nude, and we climbed into bed together like it was routine, like we were really married.

Like this wasn't for taxes. Like we were in love. Like he wasn't a criminal, like I wasn't pregnant with another man's children. Like some part of our lives was normal.

This all started because I had wanted something normal in my life.

"I can't believe you have to leave tomorrow." I whispered into the night.

I felt him nod. "I was surprised with how quickly the meetings were set."

Something in his voice sounded reticent, like he was holding something back bit didn't want me to know what.

"Milos?" I asked quietly. The dark was like a blanket we were both wrapped in, comforting and warm. I felt oddly safe, like nothing could hurt us.

"Yes, my angel?" He murmured back, running a hand through my hair distractedly.

It was obvious when I didn't have his full attention. Back in Prague, he had frequently gotten like this before particularly unpleasant business trips. I hoped this one would not be as difficult as he seemed to be expecting.

"I need to ask you for something." It came out softly, almost pleadingly.

"Anything." He answered immediately, pulling me tighter against him.

"Please come back before the babies are born. I'd like you to be there." I asked quietly.

That garnered his full attention. A long stretch of silence passed between us. I could see it on his face, he was thinking, problem solving. It irritated me, I wasn't a problem to be solved.

"Milos, I've never asked you for anything. Come home before the babies arrive. I want you to be there when they're born. You want us to be a family, and I'm considering it. This is important to me. I don't want you to miss the first moments of their lives, not if we're going to be a family." I paused. He was quiet. "And it's not just about the babies. I want you to be there for me. I don't want to have to go through this alone. I've never been alone."

The silence stretched on. Finally he answered. "I will do everything in my power to be back before our girls are born. That I can promise."

He sounded stiff and formal, maybe even solemn. I pulled back from him. "But you won't promise to be there."

Slowly he shook his head. "I can't."

My throat felt tight. I wasn't going to beg him to be there if he didn't want to. I would just have to do it alone. My heart squeezed painfully. The cocoon of darkness that had seemed so safe before felt stifling, like it was slowly suffocating me. Why was he picking the industry he was supposed to be selling over me? It didn't make sense. Milos always made sense, even at his draconian worst. I took a deep breath in and out.

"Milos, tell me what's going on. Why can't you be back within a month? What's going on?"

It was his turn to breathe in and out. "Do you trust me?" He asked calmly.

"Of course." I said in a huff. "Why?"

"No. I need you to think about it. Would you come to me for help? Do you trust me with you? Will you trust me with the babies? There isn't a wrong answer here, Petra. It's okay if you don't trust me."

I paused, thinking. Did I trust him? It had been a year since he came back into my life. He put me under surveillance. He blackmailed me into marriage. He understood me. He loved me unconditionally. I offered myself to him for an extra two months and was considering keeping him around forever. Not that he would ever really leave. I was, after all, the only thing he ever wanted.

"I do." I finally said. "I trust you."

Gently he pulled me back into his arms, stroking my hair, rubbing my back.

"Thank you. I need you to trust me. I need you to know that I will do everything in my power to return as quickly as is safe. I would do anything not to miss the birth of the girls, anything. But I got myself into this business and I will get myself out. I will protect you and our family. That comes at a price. So no matter how much I love you Petra, I can't promise. I just need you to trust me. Let me protect you."

I nodded against his chest. He let out a deep breath, murmured his thanks into my hair. It was a long time before I fell asleep, but when I finally did it was with the gentle rise and fall of Milos' chest next to me and the sound of his heartbeat in my ear.

And a sudden worry nagging at my heart. What was the price? He was protecting me, but who would protect him?


	8. Chapter 8

I woke up to a dull, nagging feeling of dread. Rain battered the windows, it was grey and dreary outside. Three hours until I had to leave. Any other business deal and I would have cancelled, but this was for her. For my wife, for my future. My gut said this was a doomed venture, but it wouldn't change anything this time.

Petra's hair was fanned out on the pillow beside me. I buried my nose in the shining gold locks, trying to memorize the feel of her, her scent. I breathed her deeply into my lungs, desperate, a man going to literally meet his maker. I wasn't sure if I would make it back, this could be our last time together.

I cupped her soft face between my hands, woke her with a gentle kiss. Her eyes fluttered open, always my delicate angel. My strong, beautiful wife. I was completely consumed with my love for her, how had I possibly survived five long years without her?

My arms wrapped around her, savoring the feeling of just holding my soulmate. Her brilliant blue eyes gazed into mine. I pulled her to my chest, holding her tightly. I never wanted to let go. I wanted to stay in this moment for eternity and never leave. Petra looked up at me with a questioning look, but before she could ask I pressed my mouth back to hers.

She moaned a little into my mouth, pressing herself against me. I grabbed the hem of the tiny silk nighties she was wearing, and lightly tugged it over her head. Immediately my lips returned to hers, hungry to taste her again. My hands skimmed up her legs, over her hips, until they were cupping her full breasts. Gently I flicked my thumbs over her taut nipples, making her shiver.

Her hands were clutching at my shoulders, nails cutting into my flesh. My mouth moved down to her neck, lightly biting as I went. She moaned and arched up against me, wanting me, needing me. I spent some time ghosting my hands over her breasts, teasing her nipples with my tongue. I loved how close she was, I loved how she trembled beneath me.

My eyes met hers as I slowly kissed a line down her belly. I nipped the inside of her thighs before burying my mouth against her sex. I ran my tongue up and down her lips, before starting to lave her clit. She was clinging to me, moaning my name over and over. I flicked my tongue over her feminine nub, enjoying how she arched her body.

I ran my hands down the soft length of her, before gently entering her with two fingers. She was slick with her desire, ready for me. My fingers slowly moved inside her in tone with my tongue, bringing her over the edge.

I entwined my fingers with hers as she pushed me back on to the bed and straddled me. My breath was ragged with my intense need for her. Slowly she sank back, filling herself with my erection. Her body was amazing, dewy and pink before me. The feeling of her so tight and wet and hot around my cock was incredible. I couldn't imagine a better sensation.

Using our hands for leverage Petra began to move up and down, agonizingly slowly. There was already a raging fire within me, but she was fanning the flames to make it burn hotter. With every movement of her hips I came closer to Nirvana, every time she threw her head back and moaned I felt myself stiffen more.

She took me deep within her, nibbling her lip, breasts bouncing before me. She was a goddess-Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena wrapped into one incredible woman. She moaned my name once, twice, three times. Louder and louder as she clenched around me. Her eyes met mine and suddenly I was coming too, thrusting wildly and deeply into her.

"Wow." Petra let out a deep breath, moving to lay back on my pillows. I tried to memorize every detail, exactly how she looked flushed with pleasure and unabashed with her nakedness. "That was... Amazing."

I smiled at her, before dropping my mouth to hers for a kiss. "You're amazing. Everything I could ever want and more."

I ran my hands over her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. I'd loved her with my whole heart, soul, and being for seven years. I loved everything about her. Not just her looks, I loved how funny she was, how smart, how resourceful, how cunning. I loved how she always seemed to understand me. Kindred spirits.

Her brows furrowed. "Milos, is everything okay?"

"I will miss you. I am finally happy again. I don't want to leave." I replied honestly. There was no reason to explain the precarious nature of my position to her. This was my burden to bear.

Slowly her hand moved to cover mine. "I will miss you, too." She said, looking away. "I've become rather fond of having you around."

My heart surged with joy. I wrapped her in my arms, kissing her soundly. "I can't express how happy that makes me. Thank you."

"All right." Petra said brusquely, starting to pull away. "I need to eat something."

"Wait." I asked, pulling her close again. "Where are the girls? Can you tell where in your belly they are?"

She nodded, looking confused. "They're side by side, one on the left and the other on the right."

I put a hand on either side of her belly, then pressed my lips to each side. "I love you both. My little girls. I'll see you soon enough."

Once I let her go, Petra tossed her legs over the side of the bed and put her nightgown back on. I watched the curve of her back, the line of her shoulders, her willowy limbs as they shifted beneath the silky fabric.

Who would have her if I never came back? Bile rose hot in my throat. The animal inside me roared with rage. The fury in my head was nearly deafening. Quietly I took a deep breath in, held it as I counted. Held it until my lungs burned, until I was under control. Slowly I released it, mentally repeating my affirmations.

You can't own another person.

Your feelings are your responsibility.

Your insecurity, your jealousy, your rage and anger are all part of you.

You can choose to control your behavior.

You can choose happiness.

I looked up at Petra, who was ordering breakfast from room service. My happiness. I could watch her forever. She slowly paced, one hand rubbing her belly as she rolled her eyes to the sky. A familiar warmth spread through my chest.

I did not come from a happy home. A bitter young mother who had died and left behind an angry, frightened child. Joining a crime syndicate, gaining my crime family. There was so little love in my life until I met Natalia. It was the most incredible drug, I needed it, I craved it. I feared it ever ending so badly I drove her away.

I would never risk losing her again if I made it home. I could control my anger forever if it meant having her, having a family based on love instead of biology or trading arms.

Shaking my head to clear it, I put on a suit from the closet. It wasn't good to be so introspective. I grabbed my bag from under the bed, tossed a few additional suits in, undershirts, boxers. The box of wafers with the gun. It was all very mechanical. Petra opened the door for room service as I zipped up my bag and joined her in the living room.

We sat on the couch eating fresh fruit and eggs with salmon and crème fraiche. We drank real orange juice infused with mango. Why did it feel so much like a final meal before an execution?

Petra was oddly quiet. Not that she was ever loquacious, but subdued even for her. I wanted to make love to her again, but I couldn't. I'd never leave if I did. I watched her bring small forkfuls to her mouth. She looked disinterested in eating.

"Are you planning anything fun during my absence?" I asked teasingly.

In Prague I had regularly disappeared for weeks with work. Sometimes months. I always asked what she did when I got back. She would smile, shrug, and say she waited for me to come home.

She laughed. "Have I ever? I might murder Rafael if he doesn't start helping more with the Marbella commercial and nanny hiring process."

I wanted to offer my help with interviewing nannies, but what if I didn't return? I took another drink of my juice. The last sip.

"It's a shame we never had a honeymoon." I said, looking at the dregs of my juice. "Something tropical, luxurious."

Petra gave me a look. "We live in a luxury hotel in a destination city next to one of the most highly rated beaches in the world."

"Humor me. Where would you want to go? Anywhere in the world."

She thought for a moment. "Seychelles, maybe? Mauritius is lovely. Tahiti?"

"Somewhere neither of us has been before." I suggested.

Her lips turned up in a smile, if just for a moment. "Bali. I always wanted to go. It just never seemed to work out."

"Perfect. We should go, maybe celebrate our anniversary?"

"The twins will only be three months old!" Petra exclaimed.

I smiled. "Then we'll have to go for our next anniversary."

That finally got a little laugh out of her. Too soon breakfast was done, and I glanced at my watch to confirm it was time to leave for the airport. I wrapped her in my arms, running my hands up and down the length of her. She was so perfect. In every way.

I pressed my lips to hers one last time, possibly for the final time. My hands clutched her face, memorizing the softness, how smooth she was.

"Just come back soon, alright?" She bit her lip. She looked frustrated, like she couldn't get the words out right.

"I'll be back the first second I'm able." I promise."

And with that, I left. I couldn't look back.

-Petra-

He kissed me one last time, his gentle touch counterpoint to his rough fingertips. I wanted to kiss him again, I wanted him to stay. Something had been tight and horrible my chest since last night, and I could finally name it. Dread. I didn't want him to go.

Not when I was falling in love with him.

"Just come back soon, alright?"

It didn't come out right. I sounded shrill and demanding to my own ears. Not caring, not like someone who loved him.

"I'll be back the first second I'm able. I promise." His voice was warm and steady. Something was wrong. Milos wasn't this composed, he was hot blooded and compulsive.

I watched him leave, certain he wasn't telling me everything. Something was wrong. Part of me was desperate to bring him back into our suite where he would be safe. But the girls couldn't be exposed to the danger a man with his lifestyle was always in. So I ignored it. I went into the office, and picked up my violin as a plan slowly formed in my mind.

For the next month I waited, worked, hired a nanny, and practiced playing. No contact from Milos, but that certainly wasn't unusual. I relearned the music I used to play for him, played and practiced until I couldn't anymore, until my fingers were bruised.

In the second month the babies were born, I had no way of contacting him. He missed the birth, but so did Rafael. And thanks to Jane, I wasn't alone. I fell into a depression after the birth, two more months swept by in a blur. I didn't think of him often, I didn't think of much beyond the darkness that consumed me.

In the fourth month I was convinced he'd chosen to leave us, that he was off gallivanting in Europe. I was angry, furious at the gall of him. How dare he make such lovely promises, then just disappear?

One night in the fifth month I checked my spam filter looking for something, and I saw it.

Arrested in Hungary, Need 50 Kopeck

For a second I couldn't breathe. It was Milos. It had to be. That was his internet scam, the exact email my mother had gotten seven years ago. I rushed to click on it.

My Darling Petra,

I hope you find this. It has been two weeks since I left to sell off my enterprise. The sales went well, but I am fairly certain that I am being followed. I have one more meeting, then I will be home. I have a small concern about the meeting going well. Should it go badly, there's a few things I would like for you to know.

I fell in love with you at first sight. Your beauty was striking, but it was your violin that captivated me, it was like you understood everything I'd ever felt. I knew I loved you then.

In the past seven years, my love for you has been the driving force of all my actions. I have many regrets, but my biggest regret of all will always be the years we've lost, always because of my foolish behavior.

You are the love of my life, and I can never thank you enough for giving me so much happiness. I did not ever expect to find love before meeting you. I couldn't understand why a person would want to weaken themselves.

You have made me understand. I am stronger with you by my side and in my heart. You fortify me with your strength and devotion, I work harder and better knowing that the things I earn will make you happy. It is not the cliché I thought it was, you truly do make me the best version of myself.

I know you didn't choose it, but thank you for becoming my wife and family. You have given me all the greatest joys my life has known. Our last four days together were the best days of my life. Whatever happens to me next, I will always have you in your wedding dress etched into my memory.

To the practical side, at the bottom of this email there is a list of my accounts and how to access them. If I am unable to return to you, I am happy I will be able to at least keep you in the lifestyle you deserve.

Goodbye, Darling Wife

With all my love

Milos

My mouth was dry. I read the letter again, a third time. It was sent more than four months ago. The meeting had gone badly, he had to be dead. It was my fault. All my fault.

I dropped my head into my hands, carefully keeping my emotions in check. If I hadn't asked him to sell, he would be alive. He would be here. I tried to convince myself that he knew the risks when he started a criminal empire, but I couldn't. I thought back to our last day together, how he didn't want to leave. How he wouldn't promise anything about returning. He knew what was ahead of him, and he did it anyway. For me.

It was my fault.

I abruptly stood up and left the suite office, making my way to the blue room. I'd been sleeping in here every night, but still fell into the bed foolishly hoping to catch a whiff of his scent, something to remember him by. But it was gone. Just like him.

All my fault.


	9. Chapter 9

"You have a visitor in your office, Mrs D." The nanny said as I entered the suite. I gritted my teeth.

"Thank you." I forced out politely, irritated. Was fourteen hours not enough work today? 

I made my way to my office and opened the door, but no one was there. Maybe they'd left. I dropped my stack of paperwork on my desk and slumped into my seat. A moment of quiet. I closed my eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"Hello, Petra." A quiet, familiar voice came from the corner of the room.

It felt like the world stopped spinning. I had to be hearing things. It couldn't be.

"Milos." I breathed, hardly believing my eyes when I opened them.

He was filthy, dirt and grime covering his body. His clothes were desperately ill fitting, possibly not even his. His face was gaunt, he'd lost weight. One arm was splinted and tied to his side, and there was a long and jagged cut from his forehead, over one eye, to his cheek. It was covered by a makeshift bandage. 

"You're alive." I whispered, pushing back my chair and running over to him, throwing my arms around his emaciated frame. "You're alive. You're okay. You came back to me. I've missed you. I thought I'd never see you again."

He wrapped an arm around me, hushing me softly. "It's okay." He murmured. "Don't cry. I'm back."

I hadn't even realized I was crying, but he was right. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried to catch my breath. "I  found your email last month. I was so sure you were dead. What happened?"

He kissed my forehead as I clutched his loose shirt. He had lost weight, a lot of it, more than he could possibly afford to lose. "Things went badly. But it's done now. Can I bathe? I'd like to see our girls."

Once I was really paying attention to details he seemed almost hallow, like part of his personality was missing. Oh, Milos. What happened to you?

We walked out to the living room, where I stopped the nanny. "Isabel, this is my husband. He's just returned from a business trip. Would you mind staying the night with the girls?"

She smiled and nodded. "Of course, Mrs D. I'd love to! Nice to meet you, Mr D." Then she went back to her book.

Milos and I walked to the bathroom, where I filled the bath. "The nanny is all of twenty two. She's incredible, the twins are absolutely in love with her. She has eight siblings. Can you imagine?"

I babbled to fill the silence, watching Milos' face. It moved to portray the correct emotion, but his eyes never lit up. They were dark, still stuck wherever he had been. 

Finally the tub was full, and I helped him undress. I removed the bandage over his eye and gasped. The gash was red and clearly infected.

"Milos, you need a doctor. You could lose your eye!"

He nodded. "I left where I was quickly, then I came straight home to you. I'll see a doctor in the morning."

His voice was slightly gruff. I nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. He was covered in cuts, bruises, and dried blood. A few of his ribs were bent at odd angles, and I could only tell because he'd lost so much more weight than I had first thought. He was skeletal.

"Please don't." He said as I was about to touch his chest. He looked anguished. Suddenly it clicked.

"Milos, were you tortured?" I exclaimed quietly. "Why would someone hurt you?"

"I was warned." He answered cryptically. "I didn't listen." He was clearly still far away. He took a slow, deliberate swallow.

I went back to unfastening his splint,  bile rising in my throat as I realized most of his fingers on that hand were broken. His forearm was the worst of all, taped to a stick and clearly poorly set after a severe break. I removed his pants and boxers, then pulled off my own clothing.

He let out a slow breath as he watched me undress, his eyes hungrily roaming over my body. "You're even more beautiful than in my mind."

"Did you think of me often?" I asked, stepping into the deep tub and assisting him in.

"Every day." He croaked. Something within him must have cracked for just a moment, because the next thing I knew I was wrapped tightly in his embrace while he shook. Then he took a deep breath and it was gone, as fleeting as its arrival.

"Sit." I said softly, grabbing a washcloth and some soap. Milos nodded, keeping a hand on me at all times.

Slowly I worked, scrubbing the dirt and blood off of him. He was stoic, showing nothing as I washed out his cuts. I kept the water running, filling the tub with fresh water as the murky pink and black water disappeared down the drain. I finished his chest and arms, and moved towards his neck. His hand gripped me tighter as the cloth got near his face.

"I'll do it." He said hoarsely, splashing some water against his face. His eyes remained determinedly open, fixed on the wash cloth.

"Can I wet your hair?" I asked gently. He shook his head side to side emphatically, then splashed more water onto his scalp. I rubbed some shampoo into a lather and gently massaged his hair clean, then let him splash the suds out when I was finished.

I stood and helped him up, then dried him off with a plush towel. "I'm going to bandage your wounds, okay?"

He nodded, his eyelids starting to droop. I put on my robe, then grabbed the peroxide, antibacterial ointment, and bandages. One by one I disinfected and covered the cuts, moving from the small ones to the large ones, bandaging the ones that were still bleeding or weeping. His torso was a kaleidoscope of horrors, covered in yellow, purple, and black bruises. Long, puckered red scars distinguished older torture from newer marks. Finally I finished cleaning and bandaging his eye.

"Do you want to go to bed?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I need to see my daughters."

I nodded, wrapping him in his robe. His hand sought out mine, and we walked down the hall together to the nursery. Isabel was still reading on the living room couch, so we went right in. They were side by side in matching white cribs, quietly breathing. Finally Milos cracked a small smile. A real one.

"Hello, girls. Papa Milos is home." He whispered, staring at them. He looked like he wanted to touch them, but held back. After ten or fifteen minutes of watching them, he turned to leave. "They're beautiful." He whispered to me. "So small."

"They were even smaller." I replied, remembering their birth.

We left the room together, his good hand still firmly clutching mine. A small frown crossed his face as we approached the blue room, his hand tightening on mine. As we entered the room, Milos let out a long breath.

"You sleep here?"

I nodded. "I couldn't seem to sleep without you. Then, when I thought you were-" Dead. "-Gone, I moved in here full time."

He stood before me and gently kissed my forehead. "Thank you." He murmured against my hair. "I am" He thought for a moment. "Glad you'll be here with me. It's been a long time since I last slept."

He looked like he was about to collapse. I helped him out of his robe, removed my own, and laid down in the bed with him. I wrapped myself tightly around him, he inhaled my hair. I reached out and turned out the light, before returning to his warm embrace.

"I'm so afraid I'm going to fall asleep and wake up back there. I'm so afraid this is just a good dream." He whispered, pulling me closer. His arm was like a steel band, holding me to him.

"It's not a dream, Milos. You're home. You're back with me." He nodded weakly, and I watched his eyes finally close as sleep claimed him.

I was awoken several hours later by thrashing next to me. His entire body was convulsing, his arms wildly swinging. 

"Milos. Milos!" I called to him, but he couldn't seem to hear me. I flicked the bedside light back on, and his thrashing stopped. "Milos?" I asked again, this time softly.

His face was stricken. "Thank you." He managed, slowly getting his breathing under control. "Nightmare."

This time I left the light on, and we slept until morning.  
I woke up still entangled in his arms, sun spilling into the room. I managed to grab my phone off the side table, and immediately started sending emails. One to Rafael, letting him know Milos was back and I'd be working from the suite this week. Another to my assistant, telling her to reschedule my meetings for next week and to hold all calls that weren't urgent. Finally I emailed a concierge doctor to come and look over Milos.

I looked over at the sleeping man next to me. His face was drawn, he was clearly in pain, even in his sleep.  
He would be hungry when he woke up. I slowly snuck out of his arms and went to the closet to dress. I picked a pair of sunshine yellow shorts and a pale blue button down with half length sleeves. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, a style I abhorred but was necessitated by the twins. I checked on Milos once more before leaving the room. His breathing was slow and regular, deep asleep.

"There's my babies!" I exclaimed at my daughters, who turned to look at me with adorable matching smiles. "Thank you, Isabel. I'm going to need less day coverage and more night coverage this week. Double rate for overnight, as usual."

She smiled and nodded. "No problem, Mrs D! What are my hours today?" 

I thought for a moment. "Can you some back around bedtime tonight? I may need help getting them to sleep."

"Of course!" She gushed in her usual bubbly tone.   
She kissed the babies, then grabbed her books and left while I called down to room service for food. The girls looked at me expectantly with her gone. I checked my watch, ten minutes until their next feeding. Suddenly there was a commotion coming from the blue room, yelling.

I rushed in, finding Milos sitting up, head between his hands, looking shaken. "Sorry, you were gone." He explained, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Another nightmare?" I asked, going to sit with him. He nodded weakly. "I have a doctor coming in a couple of hours to look you over. Breakfast should be here soon." A thin wail came from the living room. "I need to feed the babies. Would you like to rest?"

He shook his head no. "I can't sleep. I would like to help you." He still looked shaken, but determined. We went back out to the living room, where Milos stopped short, staring at the girls.

I made two bottles while he sat on the floor, poking the girls' feet. They squealed with laughter, kicking him back. He was smiling at them, a real smile.

"Where did you learn that from?" I asked, handing him one of the bottles.

His smile magnified, his eyes looked far away. "You fell asleep on the couch, and one of these princesses kicked me. Then we played this game. I look forward to playing more now that I can see them."

I blinked away the mistiness in my eyes. Having children made me sappy. "Who do you want to feed?" I asked.

He looked at them. Elsa kicked at him. "Her." He said softly, cradling her neck and lifting her into his arms. "Hello, you." He said tenderly. "I've waited so long to meet you. I'm sorry I missed you being born." Elsa gurgled, reaching for her bottle. Milos began feeding her as I sat beside him to feed Anna. "Tell me all about them?" He asked, gazing at them. "I want to know about every second I missed."

I launched into the story, how Jane got me through labor, Rafael missing the birth, having post partum depression, getting help, Elsa's first laugh, firing the team of nannies, hiring Isabel. I told him about their first laughs and their first smiles, Mommy and me classes, the mess that was Mother's Day. Their favorite foods, strawberry apple puree for Anna and blueberry oatmeal puree for Elsa.

I knew we should put them down for bed, but Milos looked so happy holding Elsa. I talked as she fell asleep, talked until there was nothing more to tell him. And for a wonderful moment, Milos of six months ago was back. He smiled and laughed when it was funny, rubbed his knee against mine when it was sad.  During the entire saga, though, he was present. One hundred percent, not still trapped wherever he had spent the last six months.

"I'm sorry it was so hard." He said quietly. "I would have done anything to be here with you."

I nodded. "What happened? You just disappeared."

He took a deep breath in and out. "I can't talk about it. I can't go back there yet."

I nodded, shifting Anna so I could rub his back. "You have to talk about it eventually. But that doesn't have to be today."

"Thank you, Petra." The relief in his voice was nearly palpable.

Our eyes met. I could feel the warmth of body pressed against my side. Slowly he lowered his head, and I tilted my face up. Our lips were a few centimeters apart. My heart was crashing in my chest. The suite door swung open.

"You can't just have that guy around our children, Petra. He's a criminal. I thought he was dead?"

Joy. Rafael was here. Milos stiffened. His face become completely neutral, giving nothing away. I stood, careful not to jostle Anna. 

"Don't wake the babies." I hissed acerbically. "We can talk after I put them down."

He had the decency to look cowed, at least. I helped Milos up, careful not to put too much pressure on his ribs or bad arm, and brought him with me to the nursery.

"You can put her in that one." I murmured. 

He shook his head. "I'd rather hold her. I'll wait in here."  
He was uncharacteristically downtrodden. Milos of Prague would have started a fistfight. Milos of six months ago would have wanted to defend himself. But this Milos, he was tired. Too tired to fight, too tired to even protect himself. 

"I'll be quick." I promised, gently touching his shoulder while squaring my own.

A little smile appeared on his lips. "That's my wife."

I quietly closed the nursery door behind me, took a deep breath, and rejoined Rafael in the living room.

"Are you really leaving them alone with him?" He demanded, incredulous.

I folded my arms and stared him down. "There's a video monitor right next to you, Raf. What exactly do you think he's going to do with them?"

"Look, the last thing I knew he was your abusive ex boyfriend that had you under surveillance and black mailed you into marrying him. Forgive me for not trusting the guy with my kids." 

"He also used that surveillance footage to save me from a homicide charge. He's been through anger management. A lot has changed."

Rafael ran a hand through his hair. "He's a criminal, Petra. Are you really going to give this guy a chance after everything that's happened?"

"He got out of illegal trading and smuggling. I'm not saying we're destined for forever, but I want to see where this goes. Five years apart and he never stopped loving me."

There was a beat of silence between us. For a moment he looked almost guilty.

"I'll be talking to my lawyers." Rafael finally replied.

A wail came from the baby monitor. Then a whispered 'utišit utišit', and the crying stopped. It was quiet for a moment, then I heard a familiar phrase.

"Bylo nebylo..."

"What is he saying to them?" Rafael asked, seeing the small smile I couldn't stop from playing across my face.

"Once upon a time. A fairytale about a magic fish." I replied. "He's not all bad, you know."

He sighed. "But he isn't all good. I just want what's best for our daughters."

I nodded. "I know. I do, too. Look, Milos just got back. He still needs medical attention. Let's talk about this a little later."

"Fine." Rafael agreed. "But, Petra? One thing out of line."  
I nodded again. "I know. Don't worry."

I watched the door close behind him, then headed back to the nursery hoping that I was making the right decision.


	10. Chapter 10

Milos

I looked at the beautiful baby in my arms. My daughter. I could hear Petra fighting for me in the next room. My wife. I would enjoy every second of this sweet reprieve. For as long as it lasted.

Petra

"Has Rafael gone?" He asked quietly as I entered the nursery. He was rocking back and forth in the gliding chair. The sight was startlingly incongruous with everything I knew about him.

"Yes." I replied. "But he'll be back tomorrow morning for his custody day."

Milos sucked a little air in through his teeth. "Does he take them often?"

I nodded, walking over to him. "Three and a half days a week. Exactly half custody."

Milos looked like he was fighting something inside himself. "In a row? I've only just met them."

"No, we alternate days. Every third custody day is a day and a half."

Gently I took the sleeping baby from his arms, and put her in her crib. I smiled a little at her sweet sleeping face. Then I went back to Milos and helped him back to his feet. His grimace was alarming. Thankfully the doctor would be arriving soon. Slowly we exited the nursery.

"How do you handle it? Them leaving?" His voice was a little gruff.

"Honestly?" I paused. "It's never bothered me. I deserve a break and Rafael is a great father. Early on we had the team of nannies, but I know he does fine without them."

Milos looked incredulous. "How do you not miss them?"

I scoffed. "Don't you dare look at me like that. I am so sick of being called a bad mother because I don't feel the need to be involved in every millisecond of my babies' lives. If I was the father, everyone would brush it off and say I 'wasn't a baby person, their husband was the same way and got more involved when their kids were children'. But because I'm the mother I get held to some nonsense 'higher standard'. It's ridiculous and insulting."

"I'm sorry." Milos said immediately, taking my hand in his. "You're right. That was unfair of me. I will have a difficult time with them leaving."

He seemed to be having trouble standing, so I gently took hours arm again and helped him hobble over to the couch. He immediately leaned back, laying himself down.

"Does it hurt badly?" I asked.

He nodded. "Distract me?"

A little part of me thought about childbirth. If I hadn't insisted he leave, he could have distracted me instead of Jane. He wouldn't be hurt now.

"You're very good with babies. I didn't know you'd ever been around any." I remarked.

He nodded weakly. "When I was in state care after my mother died I helped with the younger children. We all did. It must be some kind of muscle memory."

His eyes slowly closed as I ran my hands through his hair. His breath evened out. The doctor would be here in half an hour, but I was certain a nap was in his best interest.

I tried to check my work email, but I couldn't focus. His hair was soft under my hand, his forehead almost alarmingly warm. His eyes were sunken, the grey by his ears had become more pronounced. The skin seemed to be sagging off him.

Part of me still felt guilty. Whatever he had suffered, he had done it for me. My dark thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

"Milos." I said softly, rubbing his shoulder. "The doctor's here. It's time to wake up and sit up."

His eyes pried themselves open and he nodded while I got the door. Dr Lawson came very highly recommended, and was supposed to be very discreet. The doctor on the other side of the door hardly looked older than me. He must have noticed my raised eyebrow, because he immediately offered a firm handshake.

"Dr Lawson. Yes, I am old enough to be a veteran doctor. Where is the patient?"

"Right this way." I said, leading him over to the couch. "Milos, he's here. Why aren't you sitting up?"

His face was white, completely ashen. His eyes were squeezed closed as ground out his words. "I can't."

Dr Lawson immediately dropped to his knees and got by his head, checking his pulse and blood pressure and whatever else.

"Can you tell me anything about your injuries? I will not report them to anyone, your words stay in here."

Milos stayed quiet. I didn't feel the same need. "He left on a business trip six months ago and just got back yesterday. I think some of his ribs are broken, his fingers are a mess, and one of his arms. He was having a hard time standing."

The doctor nodded knowingly. "I've seen this before, here and in New York. Milos, right? Milos, I'm concerned about possible fractures and infections. I'm assuming you won't agree to a hospital visit?"

Milos shook his head. The doctor nodded politely.

"Then I'll give you a check over and we'll decide if it's necessary."

He started with Milos' head, checking every inch of him with care. Good face remained perfectly passive as he looked over broken fingers, a broken arm, broken ribs. The Doctor put what looked like gentle pressure on Milos' pelvis, but the howl of pain he got in return was almost frightening.

"You need surgery, Milos. Blood flow could be affected by cartilage or bone healing incorrectly. You could lose a finger or possibly even your entire arm. That's not even going into the possibility you could be permanently crippled if your pelvis doesn't heal properly."

"No." Milos growled back, every muscle in his body taut.

An idea suddenly struck me. "We have surgical suites here. Originally for plastic surgery. They're not in use, but they're still functional."

Dr Lawson looked relieved. He pulled some vials from his bag.

"Then I'll take some blood now, have the work expedited, and come back in the afternoon with a surgical assistant, possibly two. In the mean time, you should stay reclined as much as possible in order to mitigate irritating the injury. I'll send a team over to sterilize the room."

Milos' eyes remained closed as Dr Lawson took blood and gave him a shot of some pain medication.

"Thank you." I said to the doctor, leading him back to the door. "How has he gotten much worse so quickly?"

"You said he got back last night? Adrenaline. Adrenaline rush is a very real thing, and it doesn't just apply to sky diving for thrills and women lifting cars to save their children. Now that he's home and the danger has passed, he's going to crash. Pain, exhaustion, it's all going to catch up with him." He lowered his voice. "You may also want to find him someone to talk to about what he went through. The psychological ramifications are just as serious as the physical ones in cases like this. We'll talk more this afternoon."

I thanked him again as he departed, then immediately pulled out my phone and texted Isabel to come over as soon as she was able. As I moved back towards Milos a cry came from the baby monitor.

"Milos, I'm going to get the girls. I'll be right back."

He nodded, looking a little dazed. The pain medication must have already started to kick in. I picked the girls up from their cribs, one in each arm, and brought them to their seats near the dining room table. I grabbed some fruit pouches from the hutch near the table and slowly started to feed them.

They ate painfully slowly, consuming one microscopic bite at a time. Then it was time for their bottles. Simultaneously they decided they wanted to be cuddled and fed, requiring me to feed them an ounce at a time then to switch the child I was holding. My patience slowly dwindled to nothing, I keep looking at my phone to see if Isabel had responded. By the time we had finished their bottles, Isabel was thankfully knocking on the door.

"Sorry it took so long, Mrs D! I was taking a yoga seminar when you texted." She explained apologetically as she let herself in.

I looked over at Milos, still sleeping thankfully. "Thank you for coming. Milos-Mr Dvoracek-Will be going into surgery this afternoon. I'm going to need you until eight tomorrow morning, when Rafael picks the girls up."

She nodded enthusiastically. Who got that excited to work sixteen straight hours?

"No problem! We're going to have so much fun!" She nearly squealed.

Reflexively I checked on Milos again. Still sleeping. Finally she followed my gaze.

"Oh! He's asleep!" She whispered loudly. I forced a smile that I hoped came across as kind. "I'll take the girls to their room for bottles then out to the park."

"Excellent. Have fun." I kissed the girls on their heads and checked my watch. That feeding had lasted over two hours. There doctor would be back soon. I rang the front desk and told them that a small team needed access to the medical suites, and to have someone give them access when they arrived. They informed me that a team had arrived about an hour ago. Then I went and sat by Milos, laying my hand on his forehead. He was worryingly warm. Hot, even.

"When did you become 'Mrs D'?" His voice was thick and rasping.

"I thought you were sleeping. You should sleep." I chastised lightly.

He reached out to touch my arm, a feather light stroke. "I want to see you. Seeing you is better than sleep. Sleeping makes the hurt come sooner."

I held his hand in mine. "What? What does that mean?"

He nodded, clearly not all present. "They hurt me less when I didn't sleep. So I don't sleep."

I knew an opportunity when I saw one. It wasn't taking advantage if it would help him. "Milos, can you tell me what they did to you?"

He shook his head violently, refusing to say a word. He looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His chest was heaving. I changed the subject.

"I changed my name. Officially, legally. To Petra Dvoracek."

His breathing slowed down. He blinked once, twice, three times. "When?"

I rubbed his arm. "Last month, when I found your email. I thought you had died."

His eyes were unfocused, looking somewhere behind me.

"Maybe I did." He mumbled.

I was about to ask him what he meant when there was another knock from the door, then the doctor let himself in.

"Sorry for the intrusion," He started politely. "But Milos has very alarming test results. His white blood count is extremely worrisome. We need to get him to surgery. Now."

"Now?" I asked, incredulous."But it's hardly been two hours!"

He gave me a reassuring smile. "Yes, Mrs Dvoracek. I know this is alarming, but I suspect the infection has spread to his bones. We need to go in and treat it immediately if I'm right."

I nodded, slightly frantic. "Okay. How do I help?"

"First, take a deep breath. We're going to get him in a wheelchair and bring him downstairs. Then you're going to keep him calm while we sedate him."

I looked at Milos. Breathe in, breathe out. I straightened my spine and lifted my shoulders.

"Okay."

The doctor left and returned with a wheelchair, phone to his ear. Someone was yelling on the other end of the line.

"Milos, can you help get yourself into this?" He pulled a face like a petulant child. I crossed my arms. "It's me or the doctor."

He frowned, but moved to sit up. I helped him, stopping when his face contorted with pain and moving again when he nodded nearly imperceptibly. I was almost thankful for his extreme weight loss as I helped lift him into the wheelchair. I could never have lifted him when he was healthy. Of course, I wouldn't have had to, then.

Dr Lawson continued his apparently emergent call as we left the suite and went down the corridor, headed towards the elevator that serviced former surgical suites.

"Where are we going?" Milos muttered, clearly dazed.

"You need surgery. We're not leaving the hotel. You'll be safe." I murmured back, before lightly patting his shoulder.

The Doctor finished his call as we stepped into the elevator. "Excuse me for that call. You have my full attention. Milos, you have several major bone fractures that require extensive repair. There's a second surgeon currently waiting to start, I'll relieve him after the first four hours or so. Infection is our main worry at this point, however. Petra, there will be some forms for you to sign while we get Milos in a surgical gown. Then you can stay with him while the anaesthesiologist administers the medication."

I nodded just as Milos objected. "She stays with me."

His good arm sought out my hand. I took it, and was surprised to find it was trembling. "Of course."

The doctor nodded and the doors opened. We were immediately surrounded by four or five people in scrubs. They ushered us into the first room and gave me Milos' hospital gown. Gently I started to remove his clothing.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He nodded stoically, but I could see how his eyes were darting around in fear. "It's okay, Milos. I'm here, and I'm not leaving."

He took a shuddering breath, then helped me transfer him to the gurney. Within moments the people in scrubs were back, attaching IV ports and tubes and lines and who knows what else. I held his good hand, and he watched my face like he was afraid it was going to vanish.

Someone injected him with something, a warm smile on his face. "Count back from ten, and you'll fall right asleep."

"No sleep." Milos growled, his face going white as he saw a drop of blood bead where the needle had gone into his arm.

"It's going to be okay." I murmured to him, stroking his face lightly. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Please. No." Milos begged quietly as his eyes fell closed and his breathing evened out.

I generally despised people who used pathetic, sentimental phrases like 'my heart hurts', but in that moment I could almost understand it. I squeezed his hand before letting it go, and the assistants wheeled him away into surgery.

Time stretched out indeterminate before me. The halls were totally vacant, the televisions on the walls didn't work, my phone didn't get service. There were no windows or visible sun to estimate time passing. So I sat there, forced to confront my own thoughts.

What had happened to Milos? Would he be okay? Was he dreaming during surgery, reliving his torture? What was going on with him and sleep?

Where would you go if you could go anywhere in the world?

The day he left we talked about going to Bali, celebrating our second wedding anniversary. We could still do that. There was a phone down the dusty hall, giving me an idea. I walked over to it and surreptitiously lifted it to my ear, gratified hear a dial tone. I called the concierge, asking him to bring me everything he could find on luxury vacations to Bali.

For hours I pored over the print outs and magazines, comparing resorts, excursions, amenities. I imagined making love in cabanas, feeding each other exotic fruit in a sandy beach. I could get him try yoga with me. Rafael had been talking about spending a few weeks in Europe, he could take the girls at the same time. We could spend two or three weeks there. Time to recover, time to relax.

Hours must have passed. People in scrubs passed in and out, not looking my way. My back and neck got stiff, but I kept planning. I would plan this second chance honeymoon, and everything would be okay. It had to.

The door opened in front of me, but I didn't look up until a soft, reassuring voice said my name.

"Petra."

My head shot up. "Dr Lawson. How is he?"

"He's doing well. The surgery was exemplary. But he has a long recovery ahead of him."

He was doing well. That was all I could hear. He was doing well.

"Thank you." I breathed. "Thank you for saving my husband."

It was the first time I had ever referred to him like that. My husband. It echoed in my ears. My husband. He was doing well.

"It's my pleasure. Petra, we need to talk about the healing process, but it can wait until his twenty four hour check up. He'll sleeping, but you can see him now."

I picked up the papers scattered in front of me and shook the doctor's outstretched hand briefly as I rushed towards Milos' room.

"Petra?" I turned back at the sound of his voice. "You have a long road ahead of you both."

I nodded. "I know."

Then I entered the recovery room.


	11. Chapter 11

Milos laid on the bed before me, totally limp. His skin was grey, he was covered in bandages and casts. Tubes ran into both arms, delivering fluid and medication. A nurse entered the room behind me, carrying a bag of blood. She hooked it near the others, fiddling with the tubes until it was being funneled into his arm.

"What does he need that for?" My voice was still hoarse from disuse.

"Sit, sit." The nurse said, ushering me to a chair beside Milos. "Let's talk about the surgery."

I nodded, only just realizing I'd never asked the doctor. "That would be nice."

The older woman patted my shoulder. She reminded me a little of Jane's grandmother. "The good news is that he's going to make it."

"And the bad news?" I asked brusquely.

She didn't seem to mind. "He's got a lot of healing to do. Three broken ribs, four more fractured. Ten broken fingers, five severely broken with visible bone crushing. Broken ulna and radius-that's both bones in the forearm-severe pelvic shattering, lacerated kidney. We weren't sure we were going to be able to save it, but we did. Severe infections of the liver, kidney, and pelvic bones. Osteomyelitis. That's just the big stuff."

I looked over at my husband again, then laid my hand over his. "What does that mean?"

She patted my shoulder again. I only found it marginally irritating. "He's going to be in a lot of pain for a long time. He may never fully regain use of that hand. And he's going to be on pelvic rest for a long time while the fracture heals. That means no sex, not that he's going to be in the mood for a while."

She chuckled a little to herself as she looked at some monitors and wrote some numbers down.

"How long is a long time?" I asked.

"About six months." She answered. A moaning sound came from the bed. "I think he heard me. I'll go get some ice."

I turned fully look at Milos as his eyes started to crack open. The room was dim, but he was still squinting.

"I'm right here." I reassured him softly. "Just like I promised."

"Petra." He breathed out. "I've waited for you. Six months in Hell was worth it, just to see you."

A slow, dopey smile spread across his face. He was vacillating between English and German, which was odd for someone born and raised in the Czech Republic. Clearly whatever they'd given him for pain was substantial.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, running my fingers through his hair.

His smile slowly dropped into a frown as he thought about it. "Awful. In some places I'm numb and in others it hurts very badly."

"You've had a lot of surgery." I reminded him. "But you'll be okay."

He nodded distractedly. "I'm sorry."

I furrowed my eyebrows at his sudden apology. "Why?"

"We can never go back to Prague. Or really any of eastern Europe. Or most of Africa."

If he hasn't looked so remorseful, I would have laughed. "Milos, you couldn't pay me to go back to Prague. It's okay. Just rest."

He shook his head just as the nurse returned. "Don't need rest."

"Is he being obstinate?" The nurse teased. "His next dose should dispense any minute."

Milos glowered at her while I asked a few questions. "Will it help him sleep? Will someone be in overnight to check on him?"

"He won't be able to stay awake long, the medication will make him extremely drowsy. I'll be back every two hours to check his stats until the morning nurse takes over." She offered, writing down some numbers.

"Thank you." I said earnestly.

She patted my shoulder again. I could almost get used to it. "It's no problem. Get some sleep, both of you."

"Do háje." Milos muttered.

"He says thank you also." I smoothed over as the nurse left the room.

"That's not what I said." He groused.

"I'm well aware." I replied, rolling my eyes at him. "You can't insult the medical staff. They'll quit and then you won't get any more medication."

He looked cowed. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad please."

It was adorable. He almost looked like a sad, sick child. It also took the wind right out of my sails. How could I possibly be mad at him? I leaned over and kissed his forehead, inhaled his musky, masculine scent. There were dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm not mad, Milos. Now go to sleep."

Slowly he started to shuffle himself over to one side of the bad. "Not without you. Never without you again."

Any argument I might have had died on my tongue while he spoke. I sent him to whatever horrible place he had been held and tortured, and he just wanted me near him.

I could compromise.

I carefully checked to make sure I wouldn't be bothering any of his medical equipment, then got up on the bed beside him. His heavily bandaged better hand dropped heavily onto my thigh as I laid lightly against him.

"You feel so real, Petra." He mumbled sleepily.

His medication drop must have been dispensing, I assumed. "I am real, don't be silly. How are you feeling?"

He shook his head sadly, his eyes starting to close. "I hurt everywhere. Even breathing hurts."

Vulnerable Milos was an incredible rarity. For someone so generous with expressing his emotions, he had serious issues with people seeing him as being physically weakened, either by injury or illness.

We had been together over a year the first time I saw him hurt. It was the day after my birthday, and Milos had just missed my birthday for the second year.

I was wandering the streets, looking for some chicken vendor my mother wanted something from. It was a lovely summer day, warm and clear.

"Natalia!" A deep voice called from my left.

"Ivan?" I questioned, confused. "Is Milos back?"

He looked alarmed. "He said he would be spending a few weeks with you. You haven't seen him?"

"No, not since you left a few weeks ago." Ivan's jaw clenched as he whirled around, pulling out his cell phone and starting to yell something in Russian. Then he stormed off. "Wait! Where are you going?"

He didn't even bother to turn around, let alone answer me, but I followed. He made twists and turns through the city, ducking through back alleyways and cutting across major roads until he entered what looked like a residential home. An old woman stood just inside the entrance, arranging flowers.

"Is Milos here?" Ivan demanded without preamble.

She nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. "A week since he came to stay and he hasn't left his room. Foul mouth on that one, banging around all hours of the night."

I followed Ivan up the stairs, stopping behind him as he started hammering on one of the doors. A few moments later it slowly creaked open. A litany of profanity spewed forth as he saw Ivan.

"Is there an emergency? You know only to come in emergencies."

"I am only making sure you are okay. I ran into Natalia, she said she hadn't seen you."

Milos, at least the sliver of his face that could be seen, looked furious. I had to do something.

"I was worried." I said. "Don't be mad at him. I begged to see you, Darling. I missed you."

His face softened as he turned his head at my voice. "Natalia. Come in. Ivan, leave."

Like usual, Ivan did as he was told. Milos waited until he was gone before opening the door and ushering me in. I looked around the small space. There wasn't a single personal item to be found, just a bed and television. A couple of empty liquor bottles laid on the floor, which was odd since Milos didn't drink. I turned to ask him about them, and was surprised by the sight of his black eye and splinted arm.

"What happened?" I exclaimed, horrified.

"Ssh. I don't want anyone knowing." He said quietly. "I got my arm broken on my last trip."

"Have you seen a doctor?" I demanded.

He shrugged. "More or less."

I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of doctor prescribes alcohol for pain management?"

Milos grinned at me. "Let's call him a field medic. Someone within the company who is good at keeping quiet."

"How long have you been back? Why would someone break your arm?" I led him to the bed and sat him down, noticing for the first time a wobble in his step.

"About a week. There was an issue with a delivery. Decided breaking my arm was reasonable punishment. I hid it on the way back, can't look weak in front of my people. Didn't want you to know, either."

I sat down bedside him, frowning. "Why not? I wish I had known. I could have taken care of you. I want to take care of you. I love you."

He blinked a few times in rapid succession. "You would do that? For just a broken arm?"

I turned to look at him, shocked. "Of course I would! I would do it if you had the sniffles. I want to be here for you."

He wrapped me in his good arm and laid us down together on his bed. "For better or worse? That sounds nice."

A little smile crossed my face, followed by a blush. "Yes, it does."

"Would you like a big wedding, my Princess?" He was smiling at me, charming and engaging.

I bit my lip. "Weddings cost so much money. Who would we even invite?"

Milos shrugged a little. "I'm making more money now. If you want the grandest wedding Prague has ever seen, I'll make sure you have it."

"I've always imagined getting married in a big, traditional dress. But-" I stopped.

"But?" He prompted.

I looked away. "I don't care about the dress as long as I'm marrying you."

First he stared at me quizzically, like he didn't understand. Then he tenderly lowered his mouth to mine in a warm, soft kiss. "You never stop surprising me. You are the love of my life, Natalia. You are the most incredible human I've ever had the good fortune to follow around the streets of Prague."

A blush bloomed across my face again. "Me? You're the incredible one. Brilliant and driven and successful. Anyone would be lucky to be Mrs Dvoracek."

Milos was quiet for a moment, and when he finally spoke I couldn't tell if he was teasing. "We could get married now. Find a church and run away together."

"You know I can't leave my mother." I replied.

"I can give her money. Natalia, I love you. I've been making a lot of money, I have enough to last us the rest of our lives if we live sensibly. Nothing grandiose, but still much better than we're living now. Real middle class."

Silence stretched between us, taut and thick. He seemed serious. I loved him, I wanted to marry him. He was my Prince Charming, everything I had ever wanted and more. But I couldn't leave my mother, and he was a little drunk, and what if he regretted his impetuous words in the morning?

"We really need to get some food in you." I said finally. "You've spent a week stewing in this room with nothing but alcohol, and when you propose I want you to really mean it. I want you to propose because you can't bare to live a day without me."

He just kissed me again. "I knew nothing but unhappiness for thirty two years before meeting you, Petra. I will never let you go. I promise you this; I will marry you."

I was awoken hours later by someone poking me. Memories could make for the best dreams. I started to wonder for a second of Milos remembered that night, but was prodded again.

"You need to get out of the bed, Mrs Dvoracek." A voice insisted. "Mrs Dvoracek? You need to get out the bed."

I lifted my head. Milos was sleeping peacefully beside me, the dead sleep of someone heavily medicated. One of the male nurses from earlier was looking at me with a disapproving frown.

"You need to get out of the bed." He repeated. He was going to wake up Milos. He needed to rest. My hands clenched the sheets.

"Listen here, you irritatingly loud clod. I own this hotel and I'm currently paying your salary. So take that ridiculous clipboard, your power trip, and your attitude out of this room before I get off this bed to remove you myself."

His eyes widened with every quiet word. His mouth tightened. "Ma'am, I need you to listen to me-"

"No." I interrupted, my words an acerbic hiss. "You listen to me. Get out!"

A chuckle came from the bed as the nurse rushed out of the room. Slowly I looked down at Milos, who was positively grinning. "You can't insult the medical staff. They'll quit and then I won't get any more medication."

It wasn't the first time my words had come back to haunt me. Really, I was surprised he was that coherent. I laid back next to him. "You're right. How are you feeling?"

His hand took its place back on my leg. He breathed in and out slowly. "It is not the worst I have ever felt. Thirsty. But less fuzzy than yesterday. Need less medication today."

I nodded. "I'll talk to the doctor. Anything else? Food, water, ice?"

He nodded weakly. "Juice? Or..."

I waited for him to continue, but it never came. He just laid there, staring into the distance. "Or what? What are you thinking about?"

He attempted to school his face into a neutral expression, but something sentimental still remained. "Once I was very ill as a child and my mother thought I was going to die. My forehead was so hot it hurt her hand to touch it. She said she wasn't going to waste good money on a doctor, so she came home with chocolate milk instead. She told me wonderful stories all night. Nice ones, fairytales. Stories about her childhood. She even laid in bed with me and stroked my hair. Come morning, my fever broke. It was the closest thing she ever did to being a good mother. I could almost pretend she loved me."

Milos never talked about his mother. Ever. All I knew was that she died when he was young, that she was a drunk. Even getting that much out of him had taken two years of gentle persuading.

"What was she like?" I asked softly.

He shook his head. "Mean."

I laid my hand on his, careful not to hurt him. "That seems pretty standard amongst old Czech women."

He scooted closer to me. "She wasn't old or Czech. She was twenty nine when she died, and she was English."

That was certainly a surprise. "English? But you don't have an accent."

His shoulders lifted slightly in an attempt at a shrug. "I did. Until state care. It was a target for bullying. So first I got rid of the accent. When that didn't work I learned to fight."

Milos would not appreciate my pity. I repeated it over and over as I imagined a tiny child being mercilessly picked on by kids twice his size. A child who would never cry out for help, because no one had ever been there to help him. A new hatred burned inside me for his mother. How could someone abandon their child like that?

"How is everyone today?" Dr Lawson strode into the room purposefully, making polite eye contact with Milos and wisely not mentioning my location.

"Fine." Milos replied curtly. I tried to remember he was in pain, and that hated being vulnerable. I would not kill him for acting like he was raised by wolves, especially considering wolves might have been the better choice. He didn't have great people skills. We could work on that.

"We're doing well. Milos wanted to know if it was possible to have less pain medication. The side effects don't agree with him. The sleepiness and all that."

The doctor nodded. "Of course. We'll be giving you about half the pain medication today, then slowly weaning you down."

"And he'd like something to drink. I was thinking something heavy, like chocolate milk?" I felt Milos' hand rub my leg. A silent 'thank you'. I had to look out for him. Aside from Ivan, no one else ever had. And even Ivan had betrayed him for a price.

"Of course." Dr Larson agreed. "As much as he'd like. Just be aware that his stomach probably can't handle much at this point. Are you two ready to talk recovery?"

"Yes, let's." I agreed while Milos continued to glare sullenly. We were going to have a serious talk about manners. Especially since we owned a third of the hotel.

"Okay. Well, you've had major surgery realigning bone, repairing a kidney, and piecing back together your shattered pelvis. The bones should mend in six to twelve weeks, your kidney should be fine in only a week or two, and that brings us to your pelvis. You're on antibiotics for osteomyelitis, an infection that set into the bones after your pelvic fracture. That's going to take the longest to heal. I'm estimating four to six months, probably closer to six."

"So what do I have to do in order to heal?" I was surprised to hear Milos finally taking to the doctor.

"Physical therapy, three to five days a week. That's mostly for your arm and fingers, though. You're going to need to spend a month on bed rest, then three to five months on pelvic rest. I regret to inform you that means no strenuous or high impact activity, no running, absolutely no horseback or surfing activities, and absolutely no sex unless you'd like to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair. And let me be perfectly clear, that includes receiving oral sex and any type of manual contact."

Milos nodded, the opposite of the fight I had expected. Maybe the medicine drip was on again. "What about upper body martial arts? Is there anything else?"

Dr Larson caught my eye. "Upper body only should be fine after the first month. Light strength training would actually be beneficial. I'll also say this. You've suffered a major traumatic event, Milos. You're going to need therapy. I know big, tough men like you hate talking about your feelings, but please trust me. I've worked with men who have survived similar situations to yours, and the ones who didn't get help did not turn out well. They lost their families, they turned to alcohol or drugs, many of them ultimately disappeared."

Milos was absolutely silent.

"I'm sure he will agree to therapy." I assured the doctor. "He has a family to think about."


	12. Chapter 12

There was blood the cold stone floor.

There was blood on the walls, on the ceiling. But the blood on the floor was mine. I wondered if it would freeze in the unheated room. I wondered if it would freeze before or after I died.

Time had passed, but weeks, months, years? I wasn't sure. The room never seemed to get any warmer. There were no windows, no light except when they came to torture me.

My vision was blurry. Everything hurt. There were two men in the corner who had taken turns kicking me in the ribs earlier. I ignored them.

Another man entered the room, a bigger man. Without speaking he grabbed my wrist with one meaty hand, my elbow worth the other, and broke my forearm in two. All of the pain I'd taken since my capture crystallized at once, a wave of agony I finally couldn't handle. After what felt like months of torture, I started to scream. I couldn't stop.

My captors cackled. "Think that was bad, Milos? Wait until he gets ahold of your wife."

-Petra-

I was awakened by screaming. It was a horrifying, wrenching noise. I'd nearly gotten used to the shouting and flailing, but this was different.

"Milos, Milos!" I called to him, rubbing his good arm. Nothing. I called his name again, shaking his shoulder. Nothing. "Milos, wake up! You need to wake up."

Finally his eyes opened and the screaming stopped. He clutched at one arm, his chest heaved as he hyperventilated.

"Milos, it's okay. You're here. You're home. You're safe. Just breathe." I said, my voice infinitely more calm than I felt. After a few long minutes, his breathing evened out.

"I think it's time for you to talk to someone." I said quietly.

He immediately shook his head vehemently in disagreement.

I laid a hand on his cheek. "I can't fix you, Milos. I can help you and support you, but I can't save you. You need more than me."

"You and the girls are all I need." He protested gruffly.

"We're not. You went through something horrible. You need to talk to someone who can help you. It will never go away until you talk about it."

Milos rolled onto his back, taking a few deep breaths in and out. His fists were clutching the blanket. "I can't."

"You need to." I insisted. "It's been three months since you got back, Milos. You're not getting better. You're afraid to leave the suite, you only attend your martial arts if they coincide with Anna and Elsa's naps. And God forbid it's one of Rafael's custody days. Something needs to change."

His frown deepened. "You don't know what it was like." He said defensively.

I turned to face him. "Of course I don't! Because you won't tell me. Tomorrow, Milos. Tomorrow I will find a therapist who deals with people who have been in a similar situation. You will talk to them. This isn't optional."

Slowly he nodded his assent. "I want to tell you first. After Rafael has picked up our girls."

I curled up against him, laying my head on his chest. "Good. Thank you."

He nodded stiffly, his entire body tense. When sleep claimed me once more, he was still awake.

When I finally woke up hours later, I felt incredibly, impossibly well rested. The sun was bright behind the blinds. I stretched out, only slightly surprised to find Milos gone. He didn't sleep much, even less than he used to, so it wasn't unusual for him to go watch Anna and Elsa. I turned to look at the clock by the bed, and 10:01 looked back at me accusingly. I never slept this late.

Getting out of bed, I went out to the empty living room and glanced at the baby monitor. It was off. Odd. I went over to the door and pressed my ear against it. I could hear Milos' rumbling voice inside, but couldn't make out what he was saying. I opened the door.

"Look! Mommy's awake!" The twins smiled at me, then turned back to him and the books they were playing with. "I thought you might want to be well rested for..." He trailed off, letting the implication hang between us.

I nodded. "Yes, thank you."

It was uncomfortable. We were both tense, waiting for tonight.

"You can get dressed. I've got the girls." He said quietly.

I took the opportunity to leave. We'd have plenty of time to talk tonight. I went back to our room, went through my morning routine. Makeup, hair, putting on a blush colored sheath dress.

Then with a quick smile and wave goodbye, I headed downstairs to work. The day went surprisingly fast, possibly because I went in at eleven and left at four. I was fortunate no one needed anything of importance, because I couldn't think of anything but Milos and tonight. I was finally going to find out what happened to him. Maybe we could finally take a step forward.

I made it back to the suite just in time to catch the tail end of Milos giving a visibly irritated Rafael a timetable of last diaper changes, feeds, and naps.

"They're my children, I know how to care for them." Rafael responded facetiously.

I rolled my eyes. I did not have the patience to deal with this today. "Rafael, you know that's not what he was saying." I turned to Anna and Elsa, pressing kisses on their sweet cheeks. "Goodbye, babies! Have fun with Daddy! See you soon."

I looked over at Milos. He didn't handle the custody handoffs well. It was like he was afraid they would never come back. He was stiff like usual, forcibly keeping his face neutral. He waved at the girls as they disappeared with Rafael.

I sat on the couch first, patting the cushion next to me. "Let's talk. Then we can get some dinner if you're up to it."

Milos obliged, sitting close beside me. Then he took a deep breath. "Where do you want me to start?"

"The beginning. Where it all started, why it happened to you at all."

He nodded resolutely. "You know the basics of my childhood. Mother died young, I was in the wind. State custody then vagrant. When I was sixteen or so, I started working for a crime family. The Cimrman Family. It started with small things, selling knives mostly. But they saw I had a knack for problem solving, so I ended up smuggling things for them. I met you almost fifteen years into our arrangement." He paused.

"Water?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Not yet. By the time I met you, I was a fairly well respected smuggler. You remember the time I relocated that tiger? And of course, I had my internet scams on the side. After you left, I spent six months in inpatient anger management. I had a lot of anger to manage. When I got out I took on bigger, riskier jobs. I channeled everything into my work. My anger, my fear, my sense of loss. About a year later, I was brought in front of Boss Cimrman himself. He had found out about my scamming on the side. He asked me questions-Did I love the Family, was I loyal, what were my life plans, could I ever see myself retiring? Then he offered me a different position in the family. He thought I should be doing more than smuggling product, he wanted me buying, selling, and transporting. He said he liked my ambition, he had faith in me. After that, things changed."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Changed, how?"

"I was smuggling cases of diamonds. I was making more money than I could ever hope to want. I learned which officers and politicians could be bribed, who belonged to us, who belonged to our rivals. I started dealing in arms. Guns, grenades, whatever could be bought for little and sold for profit. Every day that passed I told myself you were gone, my life didn't matter. I felt a little less guilt selling weapons to terrorists. Nothing mattered."

"Did you kill people?" I whispered, horrified.

He nodded. "Not personally. But I sent people to the Homestead. I sold munitions to violent fringe groups. People died because of my actions."

I furrowed my eyebrows, not understanding. "What's the Homestead?"

Milos let out a shaking breath. "The Family's personal jail. They dealt with issues in house, so to speak. The location is unknown. Traitors go there. Rivals go there. They don't come back."

"And you sent people there. To die." My knuckles were white. I let this man play with my daughters. Sleep in my bed. "Did it even bother you?"

Slowly he met my eyes with his. "I deal with the guilt every time I look at the news, every time I see my bank statement. Every time I look in the mirror."

"When was the last time it happened?" My voice was so much stronger than I felt.

"Shortly before Lachlan called me with your whereabouts. So about two years ago now. I had three diamond smuggling operations get caught in one month. Ten million dollars gone, fifty men in jail. I found the snitch. I had him sent to the Homestead. I don't know what happened to him, but even then I could guess. They don't take traitors lightly."

"So what happened after you found me?" I asked. His story was like a gruesome train collision. I couldn't look away. I couldn't stop it. There was nothing that could fix it.

"I had a lot of sway at my level, I had the boss' ear. I visited you. I tried to make you love me. I convinced the boss to buy into the hotel from a shell company owned."

"Wait." I interrupted, panicked. "Is one third of this hotel owned by a crime syndicate?"

He shook his head. "No, I bought the shares from Cimrman a few months later. I tried to returning to work, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about you. I couldn't just leave you, not after finally finding you. So I came back. We got married, you sent me to jail, I saved you from Magda. You asked me to get out of crime, and I agreed."

"What happened next?" I asked. My heart thudded frantically in my chest. Here it was.

"I called a former boss in St Petersburg to sell off my contacts- the names and information of people who buy and sell certain things. He warned me not to. When you join a Family, you can't leave. Especially if you make it to the top, like I had. But I insisted. I said I needed to liquidate some assets, and I had more work than I wanted. I bartered off my subordinates mostly to the other Cimrman higher ups, traded my weapons for diamonds. I sold my contacts to whoever would pay the most for them. Not direct rivals, of course. Someone was following me, but that was fairly standard practice. I sold the last of my black market interests in Tunisia. As I was leaving, I was attacked and knocked out. I woke up at The Homestead."

Despite his steady voice, his hands were trembling slightly. I took them in mine as he looked straight ahead at a sight only he could see.

"Boss Cimrman was there. Said he was very disappointed. He didn't like being disappointed. He wanted to know why I was selling. He said I could tell him immediately for a quick death, or later for a slow and painful one. I refused to say anything. They dragged me into the stone rooms beneath the compound. It was so cold, and totally dark. Except."

After a pause I got up and filled a glass with water, then wordlessly handed it to him. He drank it quietly.

"Except to get food, I would have to ring a bell. They would come with food and a light. But they would also make me pay for it. It started out with beatings. But it escalated. They would kick me unconscious, cut me with knives just to watch the blood. These men, this was their whole lives. They loved it. When it wasn't me being tortured, I had to listen to the others screaming. In the cold, in the dark. Then one day, I'm not sure how long I was there. A long time. They got frustrated with their lack of progress. They sent in this mountain of a man. He walked in and broke my arm like it was a twig."

I rubbed his arm. The story was pouring out of him. His eyes were unfocused, he wasn't here any more. He was there, reliving every second of torment.

"He came every day after that. Even if I went four or five days without food, he would still show up. He broke my fingers, one a day. When he got bored of that he would shove my head into a bucket of water until I was about to pass out, then do it again and again. The worst part was that they had found my wedding band. I was careful, it was sewn into the lining of my suit, but they found it. So he would sit there and tell me all the horrible things he was going to do to you. Then he would leave, and it would start again the next day."

He took a rattling breath, then continued. "After weeks of this, he came into the room and kicked me. By then I couldn't get up from the floor. I just laid on the stones. Then he said he would come back and kill me the next day. He left. I tried to make peace with never seeing you again, but I couldn't. I hadn't even seen our girls. The next day he arrived with a body bag. He wrapped his hands around my neck and whispered an offer in my ear. For ten million dollars, he would let me live. I agreed. He strangled me unconscious, then carried me to the property's lake in my body bag and dumped me there. That night someone picked me up and transferred the money. They must have drugged me at some point. I woke up later in a French airport with a fake passport in my pocket. I bought four tickets to different places and immediately came back here. I didn't even know the date until I was on the plane. I'd been gone almost six months."

Finally he turned to look at me. Really look at me. "I got Isabel to let me into your office. Seeing you was the only thing that kept me moving, that kept me alive. And when you came in, I wondered if it was real or if I died in The Homestead. I'm still not sure this is real."

"It is real." I murmured desperately. "I'm real."

He slowly shook his head. "Every moment of every day I'm afraid I'm going to wake up in that dark, cold room. I can't leave you and the girls again. I can't waste this beautiful dream leaving the apartment or you for even a moment. I need you. Petra, I love you. You're the only person who has ever loved me. You're my soulmate. I can't lose you. I love you."

It was almost surreal. The thin, frail, damaged man in front of me had once been my greatest fear. I had paid exorbitant sums of money to hide from him. I couldn't sleep or relax, wondering if or when he would find me. And after everything he had been through, after everything we had both been through, all he wanted was to be loved. To see his family.

In that moment, it was clear to me. He would never hurt me again. He would never hurt our girls. He would love us, cherish us, protect us. Our blackmail marriage vows had become real at some point. Perhaps they had always been real for him. But somewhere along the line, they had become real for me as well. And this hurt creature before me, I would love him forever.

"You're never going to lose me, Milos." I said with complete surety. "We're going to get through this. Together. As a family."

Slowly, as if he were afraid I would disappear, he gathered me into his arms for the second time since his arrival back home.

We would make it through this.


	13. Chapter 13

Milos

Petra held my hand in the spa-like entry way of the therapist's office. At least that is how she described it. I had never been to a spa. Petra had looked into therapists that primarily worked with prisoners of war, but I insisted I wanted to see the same woman she saw. She could clearly be trusted with secrets, Petra seemed to like her. That was all I needed.

The doctor herself waved us into a private room off the atrium. Unlike the white on white waiting room, this room was panelled in mahogany with two large Chesterfield couches facing one another.

"I'm Doctor Linda Martin." The therapist said, extending a hand. She was in her mid forties, petite and stylish. She peered over her glasses, evaluating me.

"Milos." I answered simply, shaking her hand. My fingers had mostly mended, the cast on my arm was finally gone.

"Petra has told me why you're here in general terms. I don't know specifics. We'll talk not only about what you went through, but any emotional issues you might find yourself with, related or not. Any questions?" Petra and I remained silent, our hands laced together. I just wanted to go home. "Well I have one. Petra, may I use the information you've told me in your sessions as groundwork for his sessions?"

She nodded, her golden waves lightly bouncing. "Of course."

"Excellent. Then you can wait outside now. Thank you." Linda said.

My angel turned to me with a sweet smile, rubbing my back as she stood. "I'll be right outside."

I watched her leave the room, looked on as the door closed behind her. It was insane, but I missed her already. I hated being without her, even for a moment. My hand literally felt cold without hers in it. I needed her, I longed for her. I could feel her absence acutely in my very soul. Every time she left it was like the air in the room went with her.

"How are you feeling. Right now." The therapist demanded.

"Empty." I answered reflexively.

"And do you feel that way all the time?" She prodded.

I shook my head. "Only when Petra leaves. I'm fine when she's around."

The doctor picked up the pen and pad from the table. "What does Petra mean to you?"

What did Petra mean to me? What a ridiculous question. "Everything."

Dr Martin raised her eyebrows. "Everything? That's a lot for one person to be. How did you meet?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Did she not tell you?"

The doctor wrote something down. "She did. I just want to hear your version."

Petra standing in the snow flashed before my eyes. "I saw her playing the violin."

Dr Martin shrugged. "I liked Petra's telling better. How about this, if you tell me your favorite moment with her, I'll trade you Petra's favorite memory of you."

"Are you haggling with confidential information?" I asked.

"That depends. Is it working?" She quipped.

I nodded. "It was two months before the Magda acid incident, a month before her mother lied to her saying that I had cheated. We had been together for a little over two years. It was almost Christmas. We were in Berlin for Weihnachtsmarkt, in the Castle Charlottenburg. We kissed while the snow fell."

"Your version was definitely more concise." She said after I finished.

"Petra had the same answer." A warmth spread through me.

"Yep." She looked intently at me over her glasses. "Now be totally honest. Do you actually want to be here?"

"No." I started. "But I need this. I have to get better, be better for Petra."

"And why do you want to be better for Petra?" She lifted her pad and pen again.

I glared at her. "Petra is my angel. She's the love of my life, my reason for living. No one has ever made me happy like she does."

Her lips pursed as she looked up at me. "How about you, Milos? Have you ever made you happy? Why aren't you your 'reason for living'?"

I went to bite out a terse response, but stopped. I promised Petra I would really try, and I would never lie to her. I took a long breath in and out. "I've never made anyone happy, least of all myself. My mistakes drove Petra away."

The therapist was scribbling on her note pad again. "Let's try an exercise. I would like you to spend five minutes talking about your life, not relative to Petra. So instead of saying you returned to Petra, you would say you came back to the United States."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Where do I begin?"

She smiled. "Eight years ago."

Eight years ago I met Petra. I was smarter than her game. "I was working in my industry. I worked in item procurement and transportation."

She crossed her arms. "That wasn't five minutes. What else was going on? Friends, hobbies?"

I thought back. It was all very bleak back then. I hadn't gotten into martial arts yet, though I did spend a significant amount of time fighting. "I had one friend, Ivan. He was eventually murdered. Mostly we worked."

Her eyes flicked up to mine. "That must have been very hard for you. So you worked together?"

I nodded. "He was my second in command."

She put her paper down. "You didn't answer that first part, Milos."

I scowled in return. "Yes, it was unpleasant. But I had other things to worry about. I was in jail. Petra was being falsely accused of murdering him."

The second the words left my mouth I regretted them. She was Petra's therapist, of course she already knew about the murder charge. I could have easily avoided losing the challenge.

Her fingers bridged before her. "Petra being accused of murder doesn't need to lessen the loss of your friend. You are entitled to your individual feelings."

"I put my feelings before hers too long. It drove her away."

"You were emotionally and verbally abusive." She said neutrally.

I nodded. "I was. I have been through a lot of counseling for that. Anger management. I will never hurt her again."

"And how did your own needs translate into abuse for you?"

She looked very interested, like this was a quiz and there was a right answer. "I was selfish, I was jealous. Any attention she paid to anyone else, I became enraged with jealousy. Even if people just looked at her, I got so angry. I was desperately afraid that she would leave me for someone else, someone who deserved her."

She nodded, perching her head on her hand. "Do you still feel that jealousy? And can you think of any reason why you would be so afraid of someone leaving you? Did that same fear occur when Ivan left?"

I thought about Petra's smiling face. How she cried with joy at my return. "No, I'm not afraid of Petra leaving me any more. When we started seeing each other last year I was able to manage my anger. I haven't felt jealousy since returning from... Where I was. She is my actual angel. She would never hurt me."

The therapist frowned. "Petra is only human."

I shook my head. "No. You don't understand. I would not have survived without her. She is more than just a person. She is my seraph."

She spent a while writing things down. "Let's move on, we will definitely come back to this later. Did you feel a fear of abandonment when Ivan went missing? And why are you afraid of people leaving, do you think?"

I frowned. "Ivan disappearing was not a huge surprise. Our former industry was high risk. My anger management counselor thinks my insecurities are mother-related."

She stifled a laugh. At least she had a sense of humor. "At the risk of being cliché, tell me about your mother."

I hated talking about her. I sucked in another deep breath. "My mother moved to Czechoslovakia from England. She fell in love with my Russian father while he was working near Staffordshire. She was disowned by her family when she went back to Czechoslovakia with him. They lived in abject poverty, she grew to hate him. Until she died my mother swore finding out she was pregnant was the worst day of her life. My father was stabbed to death just outside of our apartment building just before I was born. My mother tried to give me away, but when she went by the police station the next day I was still laying outside in a blanket. So she picked me back up and brought me home. She despised me. She started drinking heavily and eventually it killed her. I don't know if it was alcohol poisoning or falling or killing herself. I came home from school one day and was moved into state care."

"And how old were you?" She asked quietly.

"Eight? Maybe ten." I grabbed a glass from the table and poured myself some water.

"That must have been difficult." She murmured.

I laughed bitterly. "Not as hard as everything after. State care, my work. The only thing that has ever been wonderful in my life was Natalia-Petra. She is the only person who has ever loved me."

The therapist gently placed her notebook on the table between us. "Well, Mr Dvoracek, you've given us a lot to work with. I would like to see you here twice a week for a two hour session. Possibly three sessions, we'll see how things progress."

I looked at the clock. Four hours had somehow passed. I tentatively nodded. "Okay. I will see you on Thursday."

I left the room to find Petra furiously pacing the atrium.

"-The price of tuna isn't negotiable. No, no it isn't. If she can't afford four hundred cuts of ahi at one hundred and eighty five dollars a cut, maybe she shouldn't have special requested it!" She was quiet for a moment, rolling her eyes and nearly stomping her feet as she paced. She couldn't be any more perfect. "Tonya, Tonya. Listen. We both want the bride happy. We just can't take a loss on food, especially food the bride requested we fly in from Japan!"

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her work. Petra was a force to be reckoned with. She knew her worth, she wouldn't be talked down to or into anything she didn't want. She tucked a loose strand of hair back into her chignon, the silver of her wedding band glinted in the sun.

I was back in the Homestead. I couldn't breathe. There were two men. One of them had a hammer. He swung it around with one hand, holding my wedding band in the other. He was saying filthy things about my wife. The other one grabbed my arm, holding my hand palm-down against the floor. The one with the hammer cackled, pocketing my ring and raising the hammer as he approached. I tried to take a breath but couldn't. The hammer arced through the air, it was going to crush my hand, I waited for the sickening crunch of bone-

"Milos? Milos!" I blinked a few times and Petra materialized in front of me. The warm sun was back on my face. I was in Miami.

"I'm okay." I assured her. My breath started to even out.

"What were you thinking about?" Petra asked. She didn't understand every time I talked about it I relived it.

I swallowed thickly. "They stole my wedding band. I miss having it."

She gently took my hand in hers. "You came back, Milos. That's all I care about. We can get you a new one."

I shook my head. "Those rings, they were plain because I bought them in Berlin, when we were at the Weihnachtsmarkt. Then when you left I kept them. I was so certain we would be married."

"So was I." Petra nearly whispered. "Until you threw that acid. I never believed her, you know. I knew you would never have an affair. I was so certain we would get married. I told her I wanted to marry you when we got back from Berlin, that she needed to find work to support herself. That's when she told me she'd seen you with another woman. It's almost funny it's so ironic; I was defending you to her when I saw that koruna on the street. The koruna you threw. So maybe the band was sentimental, but what we have now? It's much healthier than what we had then. Stronger."

I squeezed her hand as best as I was able. "You're right. I have you."

Our faces were so close. I could feel her breath tickling my lips. I wanted to kiss her. I couldn't. Not while I was such a mess, not at my worst. She deserved so much more. I needed to be that man first. It was my motivation.

Almost as if she read my mind, Petra looked away. "Are you still going to be okay for your physical therapy?"

I nodded. "Yes, we should go."

An hour later I regretted those words. Physical therapy was its own form of torture. My "coach" was about twenty four and obnoxiously muscle bound. "Two more sets! You got this!"

I curled the pathetic ten pound dumbbell again. My arm felt like it was on fire, my hand was shaking from the exertion. I started the last set, sweat covering my body. "Eight... Nine... Ten."

Petra handed me my water bottle. "You're doing great. Only ten more minutes until we go home and soak in the tub."

The trainer smirked at me. I ignored him. Petra had wanted to go to a physical therapy facility, but I convinced her the downstairs gym at the hotel with a licensed PT was far enough for me to hobble. When "Coach" Kevin couldn't get me in the communal hot tub during the first session, Petra had volunteered to help me do my stretches in our suite's tub. In the two months since we started with this arrangement, he hadn't stopped making jokes about it. Fortunately for him and I both, he kept them relatively appropriate.

"Mr D, you're going to tell me where you found her some day." He joked as Petra left to take a call and we moved to the open part of the room for goblet squats.

"Not likely, Kevin." I growled, taking back my pathetic ten pound dumbbell.

"Coach Kevin." He reminded me as he wrote my progress down in his little notebook.

"'Coach' Kevin," I said mockingly. "Why is it that I can do ten thousand squats but I can't have any form of physical contact with my wife?"

"Looking at your chart, I assume your doctor is jealous." He laughed at his own joke while I started my second set of squats. "Squats work nearly every muscle group in your body, and can help increase mobility your hips, which is essential after your bed rest. Sex has no benefits for muscularity or flexibility and puts pressure directly on your pelvis. You don't want that until your bone fragments are fully fused again."

I finished my last set and handed him back the dumbbell. "More misery on Thursday?"

"You'll be doing twelve pounds. Get pumped!" He laughed at his own joke. Again. Then he clapped me on the shoulder. "Oh, right. Not for three more months, bro."

Petra returned before I could respond, breezing into the room with her usual grace. Her light blue dress had short sleeves that fluttered when she moved. She looked like a nymph. "Ready for your stretches?"

I nodded, heading for the elevator.


	14. Chapter 14

Petra

Milos was in what could only be described as an unceasingly foul mood. He was short tempered, growling at everyone but the girls and me. Even with us he would relapse into a morose silence, drifting around the apartment like a sullen ghost. He went aimlessly from the study to the couch, carrying a never ending pile of books with him. The Sound and the Fury, The Trial, Wuthering Heights. He read them all voraciously, desperate to avoid a reality he couldn't seem to cope with.

Not that anyone could blame him for being cantankerous, not when he'd been waking up two, three, four times a night with nightmares for the last month. They were worse than before therapy, more frequent than when he first returned home. A week and a half ago had been the anniversary of when Milos left for Russia last year. Tomorrow would the one year anniversary of when he woke up in the Homestead. For the first time since I had known him, up until a month ago, he had been sleeping a decent amount, falling asleep beside me at night and waking up only marginally earlier than I did if the twins were with Rafael. That was gone now, replaced with nights where he came to bed after midnight and was awake again long before the sun rose. I wouldn't even know he slept if it weren't for the nightmares, being awoken by thrashing and shouting, watching him sweat and hyperventilate while I held him and talked to him.

He had offered to sleep in another room to avoid waking me after the first few days, but I had turned it down. I wanted-no, needed to help him. Especially with Anna and Elsa at Rafael's for another day, he had nothing to focus on. Just whatever he was feeling, his memories, the resurgence of nightmares.

I got out of bed and pulled on my robe. It was still dim in the morning twilight, but I left the room to find him. I didn't have to go far, Milos was already dressed in his suit, sitting on the couch with his newspaper. He looked tense, dark circles under his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently.

"No." He answered flatly, not looking away from the newspaper I suspected he wasn't actually reading.

"It will make you feel better. You can't possibly feel worse than not sleeping because-"

"Not today, Petra." He snarled, reaching for his coffee mug and bringing it to his scowl. "Just not today."

My mouth snapped shut. I waited a beat, but no apology came. So I turned and left.

Milos

The second the words left my mouth I regretted them. Why was I lashing out at the only person who had ever bothered to care about me, what was I thinking?

I couldn't stop looking at the date on the newspaper. Petra was walking away. I wanted to ask her to come back, I needed to apologize. But I couldn't stop looking at the date on the newspaper. It was two in the afternoon in Tunisia. One year ago exactly I was two hours away from being captured. I replayed my last hours of freedom over and over in my head. I couldn't go after Petra. I couldn't stop looking at the date on the newspaper.

I thought about the breakfast I skipped, water I turned down. I had just wanted to get back to Florida. I relived running sixty million dollars in glittering diamonds through my fingers at the meeting's close. I could almost taste my wife on my lips as I left the meeting. It should have been a twelve hour flight to Miami. I should have been home for the birth of my children, helped my wife through her depression. Instead I happened to look across the street. A small child looked back at me, a frightened expression on his face. Then there was pain. Then there was nothing.

Six months of cold, of starvation, of agony. I closed the newspaper and left the apartment, the hotel felt stifling. Soon I found myself wandering through the streets of Miami. It was seventy degrees outside, but I was chilled to the bone. I left without money, without my identification or the phone Petra insisted I needed. It was ridiculous, no one called me; everyone I had associated with thought I was dead. Sometimes I would just stare at it, haunted by a phone that never rang, remembering my phone that never stopped ringing. It didn't matter I didn't have it with me, she wouldn't be calling. Not after my behavior. I didn't deserve her concern.

Eventually I stopped before a building. I rolled my eyes at the marble façade.

"I didn't realize we had an appointment today." Doctor Martin said from behind me.

"We don't." I snapped.

"Are you sure about that?" She asked like I was a misbehaving child. "Come in, Milos."

I frowned. But I followed her anyway.

I came home more than ready to apologize. Guilt weighed heavily on my conscience as I entered the apartment to find it dark. There was a covered plate on the dining room table, a note on it in Petra's elegant script. Milos. Of course she made sure I had dinner. I'd been foul to her and still she still cared for me. Guilt gripped me tighter. I lifted the lid, peaked at the food inside. Cold pizza, my favorite thing to eat when preoccupied with work. She understood my feelings before I did, apparently.

A dim light caught my attention from the bathroom. I turned towards it, hoping to find Petra and apologize.

As I entered room I was greeted by the sight of a dozen candles scattered around the bath my wife was elegantly reclined in. Candlelight glinted off the water, off her wet body. My hand clutched at the door frame, it was visceral, I was suddenly desperate for her. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

Her eyes opened, looking at me warily. "Are you alright?"

"I'm so sorry." It rushed out of me. "I should never have said that. I spent the day yelling at Doctor Martin. I was so angry, I didn't even know how angry I was until the yelling started. All the things I missed. All the injuries. I was cruel to you. I'm sorry."

She nodded thoughtfully, still reserved. "Join me?"

I nodded, pulling off my tie and dropping my suit jacket to the floor. I needed her, I would trade air or water just to touch her. My shirt followed, then my undershirt, my pants and boxers. I could see her surveying my form from under her lashes, I wondered if she was looking at my scars or my body. I had put a modest amount of muscle back on, but I certainly didn't look like I did a year ago.

Petra spread her legs as I finished pulling off my shoes and moved to join her in the tub. "Lean against me?" She murmured.

"Of course." I agreed, sitting between her thighs and leaning my head under her chin. Silence stretched between us. Petra began to rake her fingers through my hair. "Twelve hours and one year ago, I was knocked out and captured. It meant that I missed my children being born, that I wasn't there to help the love of my life the only time she has ever needed me, I've dealt with near constant pain for ten of the last twelve months, I can't even make love to the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. I can't stop thinking about it-Being captured, though I would not object to making love if it wouldn't potentially cripple me."

"Oh, Milos." Petra murmured. Her hands moved over me as I reclined against her. They ran through my hair, massaged my neck, my shoulders. "The birth was terrible. You would have hated seeing me in that much pain and you couldn't have helped. It's probably better that you weren't there."

I could feel her breasts on my back, her breath on my ear. "That doesn't change that I should have been there to try. I should been there to comfort you, I should have been there to see Anna and Elsa join world. I should have seen their first smiles, their first time rolling over. I have so much anger that I missed all of it."

She nodded. "I can understand that, but I missed a lot of those things, too. You only missed five months out of their entire lives, they honestly weren't doing much. You can't fixate on what has gone by, Milos. It's too late for that."

"If I had been here with you, maybe you wouldn't have missed those things, either. At very least I could have gotten you to a doctor like you did for me." I insisted.

"With post partum depression, who knows if you could have convinced me to see a psychiatrist. I mostly saw someone to get Jane off my back." Her hands continued to trail over my neck and shoulders.

"I still should have been here to try." I said regretfully. Petra didn't reply. My guilt multiplied, I didn't want to upset her. "Speaking of Jane, does she still think I'm the monster that lives under your bed?"

Petra shook her head. "No, or she wouldn't have invited you to Thanksgiving. Have you two actually ever talked?"

"No, I wasn't saying much in November. It still hurt to be upright. I was supposed to use that ridiculous cane." I reminded her.

"If only they made medication for pain." She quipped lightly. "Or your ego."

Tentatively I put my hands on her legs. They were soft and smooth, just as impossibly long as I remembered. "No man's ego could survive meeting his new extended family using a cane. I'm forty, not eighty."

"And still and old man." Petra teased.

She brought out the best in me. There was so much darkness in my soul, so much pain and anger. Something in her brought out the best in me. She made me thoughtful, she made me laugh. She made me happy, something I hadn't been sure I was even capable of.

"Old man? You're not that much younger than I am." I pointed out.

She laughed. "Eight years! And I've never had to walk with a cane."

"Neither have I." I challenged her.

"You're right, you're right. You never actually used it. You win." She demurred before changing the topic. "Any news with your gym?"

"Yes, actually. We finally reached a number. We're just getting the papers drawn up." I was in the process of buying the marital arts gym I belonged to. The owner was under water, but the gym was in a great location with a huge and devoted membership. It was a great opportunity, and I needed to work. I had been working every day since I was ten. I needed something to focus on.

"Did you get him down to eight?" Petra asked, sounding genuinely interested. She'd been following the process closely, I suspected she enjoyed hearing about the negotiations. She was an incredible haggler, and not just with Dannig and the grenades. It was one of the things I loved about her.

"Seven." I said with a smirk. "I promised no one would find out there was a new owner. He can continue to strut around like he owns it."

"Using his own hubris against him. Good for you." She sounded so proud. "When do you think it will go through?"

"Some time next month. Probably just after the twins' birthday party." I answered.

"We should celebrate your gainful employment. Do a long weekend in the Caribbean before you have to start working again."

I smiled. "I would enjoy that."

Slowly her arms wrapped around my shoulders, holding me to her. For a moment I had this fleeting thought, she loves me. She took care of me after my return, she seemed to enjoy being around me, we laughed together and slept together and were raising children together. She had to love me. Except that she didn't. I closed my eyes. It had been almost six months since my return, and she still hadn't said it. We hadn't even kissed. Maybe I was just too broken. Maybe I wasn't worth loving.

"Hey, are you okay? Your shoulders just got really tense." Her touch was tender, her voice was sweet. My heart ached. What if she wanted me to go? I couldn't leave her. I couldn't leave my daughters. I survived Hell for them, I couldn't live without them. I had no reason to live without them.

"No." My rasping voice surprised me. "I'm not. I want to be."

"Good." Petra agreed softly, wrapping those long legs around me in a gesture that reminded me of Natalia. "I want you to be okay. I would be devastated without you, Milos. You must know that. When I thought you had died, it was frankly one of the worst days of my life. I felt so empty, like something inside me was missing. It was this horrible black void, and nothing made it better. But you didn't die, you came back to me. It was the happiest day of my life."

"What about Anna and Elsa being born?" I interrupted her, incredulous.

She shook her head. "Labor was awful, Milos. Post partum depression set in quickly for me, I didn't know what do with them. I didn't want to hold them. It was all very dark then. Of course I loved them, but it wasn't magical like everyone said it would be. I'm sure that didn't help things. When you came home, it was a miracle. The second I saw you, it was like seeing the sun."

"I've certainly never been someone's miracle." I replied more earnestly than I had intended.

"Anyway, I've missed you this month. I've missed having you in bed with me, I've missed talking with you over breakfast and dinner. I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend my life with, to be honest." She said the last sentence it like it was a joke, but I felt her deep swallow after. I could feel her pulse racing where my head was leaning on her throat.

She meant it.

And she loved me.

Whatever her reasoning was for not saying it, I could respect that. I loved her, too.

We laid in the bath together until we were exhausted, until laughing hurt. I stopped counting the hours, I stopped thinking about where I was one year ago. We collapsed into our bed together, a tangle of limbs, and pulled the blanket over us. That night there were no nightmares, no visits to the Homestead. Just a deep, contented sleep that lasted until long after the sun rose on the next day.


	15. Chapter 15

Petra was holding my hand firmly in hers. She was listing off things we needed to do before the twins' birthday party at noon, counting them on her fingers and smiling. I loved her smile. I loved the way her eyes widened when she looked at me, I loved the light blush on her cheeks. I could not possibly love her more.

We were sitting shoulder to shoulder, waiting for my doctor to come give us my test results and let us know how the healing process was going. For six months I had been on pelvic rest after they found that my hip had been fractured and that infection had set into the bone. The first three months had been easy, sex had been the last thing on my mind then.

That had changed as I worked with the therapist Petra had found. I started seeing my wife not just as some angel not to be despoiled, but as a woman again. I wanted her. The sway of her hips, the curves she flaunted in her agonizingly tight dresses. I wanted to taste her lips, to feel her skin, to bury myself in her. Every day it was becoming more difficult to live beside her without having her. My thoughts drifted to earlier that morning.

I awoke in a sweat. The air conditioning had gone out the afternoon before, and the room was easily ninety degrees. I turned to look at Petra, the first thing I did each morning. She was wearing a painfully small silk pair of shorts and a matching spaghetti strapped camisole. They had ridden up as she slept, revealing her flat stomach and long legs. Her nipples were taut and visible through the thin fabric. I wanted to touch her, to tease her, to claim her. But I couldn't. We hadn't so much as kissed since I got back. I knew the second I kissed her I would never be able to stop, no matter what the doctor insisted.

We'd had strawberries with cream for breakfast, and I had stared transfixed as her tongue and lips laved the strawberries as she ate them. I watched her gently suck cream off her fingers, her lips pursing as they sensually entered her mouth. I drank coffee so hot it scalded my tongue, desperate to pay attention to something else, anything else. She took a hot shower, filling the bathroom with steam while I took a cold bath and desperately tried not to watch her reflection in the mirror.

Then it was time to get dressed. We went to our room, she disappeared into her closet. A few minutes later I was standing there, knotting my tie, when she emerged wearing a see through bra and panty set. It was pale pink and nearly iridescent, the lace shimmering as she walked towards me. The bottoms were nearly identical, translucent and perched precariously low on her hips.

My groin tightened painfully while my eyes raked hungrily over her flawless form, her creamy skin and tantalizingly visible nipples. Her mouth moved, but I couldn't seem to hear what she was saying.

"Milos? Can you fasten my necklace?" She asked again.

I nodded, having a hard time with speech. My mouth was suddenly painfully dry. She smiled a little and turned around, lifting her hair off her shoulders. My hands brushed her collarbones as I laid the unfastened necklace on her. My normally adept fingers fumbled embarrassingly with the clasp against her warm neck, I couldn't stop staring at the shapely ass mostly exposed by her very revealing panties. Finally by the grace of some deity or sheer luck, it attached. She laid a hand softly on my heart and thanked me before returning to her closet.

I imagined what could have happened if I had kissed her neck instead of fastening the pendant, or what if I had pulled her into my arms, or held that hand on my frantically beating heart and pulled her into the bed. I imagined spending all day making love to her, holding her captive in our marital bed with nothing but room service to sustain us.

Petra came back out wearing a towering pair of heels with a white wrap dress. It was tight around her breasts and flowing at the bottom, showing a hint of leg as she walked. It reminded me of the dress she had worn when we had first slept together in this room over a year ago. I wanted to tear it off her.

"Are you ready to go?" She asked, her head tilted in that way that made her look exceptionally innocent. Guilt swept through me at my thoughts.

"Of course." I had replied.

Petra

"We need to pick up those gluten free cookies, you know Charlotte will leave early if her kids are extraneously exposed to gluten, the balloon animal guy needs his deposit, why he needs us to drop it off when he'll be at the party who knows."

I looked up at Milos, who was clearly somewhere else in his head. His eyes slowly scanned from my lips to my necklace to my breasts, where they lingered for a moment before returning back to my face. That familiar look was there, lust. A soft knock came from the door.

"Milos, Petra." Doctor Lawson said kindly as he entered. "How have you both been?"

"We've been well. Eager to know how he is." I replied, taking Milos' hand and holding it in my lap. He shifted slightly in his seat.

"Well I'm glad to tell you that Milos has finally healed, and he's healed beautifully. One more month of physical therapy would be good, but I'm officially taking him off pelvic rest."

I smiled at the doctor. "That's wonderful news, thank you."

Milos nodded stoically. On the way out he put his hand on my lower back, holding me close. I couldn't help my smile.

Milos was fairly quiet in the car, mostly nodding in agreement while I talked at him about decorations and the guest list. But a hand was always on me, rubbing my leg, on my waist, on my back. Even while picking up the cookies at the bakery he was present, attentive, affectionate.

We arrived at the party venue an hour later, the car full with things for the party, powder pink table cloths and the twins' special birthday dresses, stands for the dessert table and champagne for the adults. Milos and I went to work setting everything up. For someone used to being the boss, he was incredibly helpful. He followed every direction, making sure everything was perfect as he went.

"I still think you should have gone with blue." Milos teased while he hung some fairy lights.

"No Frozen. Not until they're old enough to ask for it." I insisted while I set up the desert table and Mimosa bar.

He grinned. "So I should-"

"Don't you say it!"

"-Let it go?" He was laughing. Really laughing. It was actually nice. Milos' life and work had never really been conducive to bring carefree, not with constant stress, looming danger, and the anger he had carried with him. In the last few months he had really seemed to come into his own.

I rolled my eyes and handed him a banner to hang next. He laughed harder.

After another thirty minutes everything was perfect. The upscale indoor playground had been transformed with pink and silver decor, banners, table cloths, tissue paper lanterns on the ceiling. Milos poured me a glass of champagne as we stood back and admired our work.

"Do you approve?" He asked, catching my appreciative gaze.

"I might hire you to do event set up." I answered seriously.

"Anna and Elsa are going to love it." He said, pouring himself some orange juice in a champagne flute.

"They're not even going to notice." I replied flatly, taking a sip of my champagne. "But I will. And I like it."

Milos put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. "My darling, as long as you're happy."

I smiled briefly. "I really am. Happy."

"So am I." Milos replied. "It's nice, isn't it?"

The doors banged open before I could answer, Milos let his arm slip from my shoulders. In toddled Anna and Elsa, with Rafael behind them. The girls squealed as they saw Milos, then immediately changed paths to see him. He smiled at them, opening his arms as they rushed over to him.

I looked at Rafael just in time to see him huff. He dropped a few gifts onto the table and poured himself a drink. I looked at my watch. Only ten minutes until guests would start arriving. I picked up the twins' dresses and joined Milos and the girls near the ball pit.

"Ball?" Milos asked, holding one up.

"Aw?" Anna parroted.

"Almost! Ball." He tried again.

"Ull." Elsa insisted. "Ull."

"What about Czech? Míč." He tried again.

The twins looked at one another for a long time, then Anna pointed at me. "Ma."

Milos laughed. "Yes, that is Mama. Míč is a ball." He handed each of them a ball from the pit. They immediately shoved them in their mouths. I hoped this facility was as clean as the owners claimed. While they were distracted we changed them into their matching pink silk taffeta dresses. They were adorable, still holding on to the last bit of baby chub.

"I can't believe how big they are." I muttered.

Milos nodded. "I think they get bigger every time we see them."

I wasn't particularly fond of babies. But I couldn't help a tiny feeling of nostalgia that mine were so close to being gone.

Two hours later the party was in full swing, or as 'full swing' as parties for one year olds got. There were about twenty adults and thirty children in attendance, mostly children from the twins' tumbling class. The toddlers ran around everywhere, though Anna and Elsa seemed to prefer crawling through the ball pit while the photographer took pictures. I was standing back, just observing when Rafael came up beside me.

"This is a great party." Rafael said, handing me a glass of champagne.

"Thank you." I replied, taking the flute. "Good call reserving Jellybean Jungle."

He nodded, his gaze fixed on Milos, who was talking with Jane and Michael. I wished I could hear what they were saying. They appeared to be laughing.

"Milos seems different." Rafael said finally.

"He is. He's been working hard with his therapist. She's really helping." I felt suddenly on edge.

Rafael's lawyers had been trying to sue for full custody since Milos' return six months ago. Mine were fighting back hard, but he had the upper hand. Thanks to me, Milos had a record as an international criminal. It didn't look great in a custody trial.

Rafael drained his glass. "I'm dropping my custody suit. For now."

My head whipped around, turning to him. "What?"

He slowly nodded. "I'm not saying I like him being around our kids, or that I approve of your bizarre relationship. But Jane says he's sticking around and he's great with the girls, and that I shouldn't get between you and our daughters. Until I have a reason to."

A niggling irritation struck me, of course Jane had caused his sudden change of heart. She was only married to someone else. But now wasn't the time.

"I appreciate that you're dropping the suit." I said.

"Will you and Milos be?" He raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the twins.

I shook my head. "No, not with my history of loss and the hyperemesis gravidarum. He considers the girls his, anyway. The biology isn't important to him."

Rafael frowned a little, like he couldn't quite understand. "Does he have kids?"

I took a sip of champagne. "Other than Anna and Elsa? No."

"Well they're not really-"

"Don't let him hear you say that." I interrupted, slightly irritated. "Those girls are his world."

He changed the subject. "How's that new bride? Clarissa?"

"Corinne. She wants to move up her wedding by six months and get rid of her open bar." I rolled my eyes. "I'm trying to get her wedding planner to convince her that her guests shouldn't get punished with a dry wedding because she's pregnant."

Rafael laughed a little. "I'm assuming you were nicer on the phone."

"Of course. If you'll excuse me." I said, putting down my glass and heading to the ladies' room.

I entered the bathroom, thrilled to find it was empty. I took a deep breath then touched up my hair in the mirror. Of course less than ten seconds later the door swung open again.

"Petra!" Jane exclaimed, rushing in. "Did you know that Milos is funny?"

I turned and gave her a humorless half smile. "As a matter of fact I do."

Jane ignored my attitude. "I guess I've never really talked to him. I mean, we said hi at Thanksgiving a few months ago, but he was-"

"Miserable." I filled in. "He wasn't supposed to be walking then, he was in a lot of pain. He doesn't take pain medication."

Jane laughed. "I was going to say 'quiet'. Anyway, he was telling this crazy story about when he worked in shipping and transportation and he had to move a tiger from Asia to Europe, but then the guy wanted to return it! There's no way that's true."

I couldn't help it, I laughed just a little. "Every word. We were dating when he took that job."

"Has he always been like this?" Jane asked. That was one thing I generally liked about her. She wasn't going to go ferreting for second hand gossip.

"On and off." I answered. "He used to have... Moods. He doesn't anymore."

The woman opposite me looked at me long and hard. The subtext had not been lost on her. "And you're happy?"

I was caught momentarily off guard by her question. "Yes, Jane. I'm happy."

"Good. Anyway, we should probably get back out there." Jane said, turning to go.

I ran a hand over my hair. "Wait. Jane. Thank you."

She turned around, looking honestly confused. "For what?"

I breathed in deeply. "Well let's start with convincing Rafael to drop the custody suit. For making sure I'm okay, over and over again. And for inviting Milos to Thanksgiving. I would have completely understood if you didn't. I did promise to keep him away from Mateo."

Jane shook her head. "It wasn't a problem. People can change, I really believe that. And he's really great with the twins, even Rafael says it. He obviously wouldn't hurt a little kid, so it's not like he would hurt Mateo. If you trust him, then he's part of our family."

"Well thank you." I said stiffly, smiling a little.

Another woman entered the bathroom, ending the conversation. We both exited the bathroom, Jane going find Xiomara for something. I wandered through the venue, eventually bumping into Milos as he filled his flute with more juice.

"There you are. I haven't seen you."

He smiled, but he looked a little tense. "I circulated and talked with the guests."

My brows furrowed in confusion. "But you hate talking to people."

"But I love you. I know your life involves a lot of social events, and I wanted to prove I could handle them." He answered simply, as if it were perfectly obvious.

"Milos, you don't have to change for me." I assured him.

"You've made a lot of sacrifices for me in the last six months. I'm better physically. I'm improving psychologically. It's time for us to share a life, instead of me dominating yours." He spoke quietly, his free hand tentatively coming to rest on my cheek.

"Can we gather around for the singing of Happy Birthday?" The photographer shouted from across the room, interrupting us.

Milos' hand slowly returned to his side. He smiled at me, one of his sweet, genuine smiles. "Let's get the girls. We can talk later."

I nodded thankfully, the party was almost over. I went over to the slide area and picked up Anna, bringing her to her special toddler chair. While everyone circled around, and Rafael put Elsa in her chair, Milos lit the candles. Everyone started to sing.

Happy birthday to you,

I looked around the room. The familiar faces, the friends, the acquaintances. People who were part of our lives, people who meant things to us.

Happy birthday to you,

The family. Jane and Michael, Xiomara, Alba, Mateo, Luisa. People who would be in our lives forever. People we could count on, people we could turn to.

Happy birthday Anna and Elsa,

I looked to my left, where Milos was tightly holding my hand, grinning at the twins. My husband. He'd come so far in the last six months. He really was my Prince Charming.

Happy birthday to you.

As the song ended I turned to my right and looked at my babies, now my toddlers. I blew out the candle on Elsa's cupcake while Rafael blew out the candle on Anna's, and the photographer took pictures, proof that Natalia-cum-Petra Andel then Solano then Dvoracek was gloriously, wonderfully happy.

Sorry about the hiatus! I'm expecting my second child and have extreme morning sickness. It makes writing difficult when you literally can't stop vomiting. Karmatic revenge for using Petra's HG as a plot device. Only one more chapter and the epilogue left! -K


	16. Chapter 16

"What a day." I said, closing the door behind us and leaning on it. I felt exhilarated, nearly giddy.

"It's not even dinner time." Milos reminded me with one of his little smiles. He was right, it wasn't even six in the evening.

"I can't believe they're one. It all went so fast." I said, slipping my feet out of my heels.

"Speaking of that, I got you something to celebrate." Milos replied. He disappeared into our room for a moment and returned with a small square box. Our fingers brushed as I took the package. "To my beautiful wife, love of my life, mother of my wonderful children. Congratulations on surviving both the first year and the party to celebrate it."

I laughed at his quip while I opened the package. "Thank you. It's been much easier with you around. You've been incredible."

Inside a delicate silver bangle covered with filigree and studded with micro pave diamonds sparkled up at me. There were words etched on the inside of the band, 'Some people are worth melting for'.

"It felt right." Milos said quietly, brushing a fallen stand of hair from my face. "I haven't been able to get that line out of my head since we watched Frozen last month."

"Thank you." I breathed, slipping it on my wrist. "It's perfect."

Milos stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the subtle scent of his cologne. I laid my hands on his shoulders, feeling the breadth of them. He'd put on weight, he finally felt sturdy again. Strong. It was almost like coming home, feeling them under my hands. He was back, my Milos was back.

I looked up, into his eyes. He looked so serious, his gaze slowly moving from my lips to my eyes. One of his arms snaked around my waist, pulling me against him. His breath was warm and close as we stood there for a moment, almost afraid move. His face moved closer to mine, our noses lightly brushed. Finally his mouth met mine, our first kiss since his departure over a year ago. I pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He tasted like orange juice and old memories.

"Thank you." Milos murmured, not pulling away.

"For what?" I asked, lightly kissing him again.  
"For everything. For taking care me. For standing by me. For insisting I get help. For not running after finding out some of the horrible things I've done."

My arms wrapped around his neck, my hands ran through his hair. Our mouths met and crushed together, I couldn't get enough of him. I had to tell him.

"I love you, Milos. There was never another option for me. I would do anything help you, I love you."

His arms tightened around me until I could barely breathe. His mouth was on mine, his hands were suddenly in my hair, caressing my face.

"I don't deserve you." His whisper against my lips was hoarse. "I've never done anything worthy of your devotion. But I promise--"

"Stop." I interrupted, catching his face between my hands. "Milos, I love you. Without condition. You don't have to do anything to earn my love, you have it. Forever. I love you."

His arms moved back around my waist, holding me. His face buried into my neck. "Thank you. I love you. I can't tell you how happy you've made me, you've been the best part of my entire life."

"You don't have to tell me how happy I've made you." I said, kissing him again. "That's how happy you make me. Especially now that you're so much healthier."

"I have you to thank for that." Milos demurred, kissing me again. I hadn't even realized how much I had missed his lips on mine.

"Congratulations on passing all your tests today, by the way." I replied lightly.

"You have no idea how thankful I am for that." He murmured, his fingers sending a shiver through me as they slid down my back.

"I think I might." I replied with a smirk.  
I watched as the realization swept over him. All the tight dresses, my sudden proclivity towards bending over desks, the show this morning in my lingerie.

"You did all of that on purpose. You little minx." His look of disbelief was quickly replaced by a wolfish grin as his hands grabbed my bottom and pulled me closer. "Does that mean I can have you any way I want?"

"You better. I want you. I need you." I murmured into his ear before nipping at his lobe with my teeth.

He shivered, dragging my mouth back to his. His hands tore at the tie on my dress, but he couldn't seem to unfasten it. Instead he walked me back against the door while I tugged at his belt buckle. It was rough, animalistic, raw. It was two people who thought they would never see the other again, finally reunited.

Milos' hands were under the hem of my dress, running up my thighs. I spread my legs wider as I finally managed to get the belt out of his pants. His fingers hooked the elastic on my tiny panties and literally tore them off.  
I would have objected, I liked the lingerie set-But his hand was moving against me, stealing the breath from my lungs. Fire was rushing through me, desire and need for him right there, right then. I moaned low in my throat and started to pull helplessly at his shirt. His mouth trailed to my neck while one of his hands quickly unfastened the buttons on his shirt and the other moved against the most sensitive part of me.

I moaned his name, arching closer to him. He managed to get his shirt off while I clung to him, unable to do anything but moan. As I neared my peak I was vaguely aware of him kicking off his pants and shoes. His hand was suddenly gone, replaced by his body pressing me harder against the door. As Milos dragged his mouth back to mine, his hands firmly grabbed ahold of my bottom, lifting me up.

"Are you ready?" He asked huskily. I nodded frantically, I was desperate to have him inside me again.

"Yes, I need you." I managed to get out as his mouth descended on mine once more.  
He lifted me up a little higher, then slowly lowered me onto his cock. "God you're better than I remembered."

It was incredible, the feeling of him stretching me. I threw back my head and moaned again, he took the opportunity to suck lightly on my throat. He was hard and deep within me, we were moving together like we'd never been separated. My legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, bringing him closer and closer with each incredible thrust.

One of my hands ran through his hair while the other clung to his shoulder. I could feel myself starting to tremble, I was getting so close again.

"I need you beneath me." Milos murmured, taking a step from the wall. He slowly bent, laying me on the floor in front of him.

"Any way you want me, I'm yours." I promised, my thighs still open for him.

Milos pulled the bow on my dress once more, and it finally fell open before him. His hungry eyes devoured me as he leaned forward, his body slowly entering mine again. I moaned loudly, I couldn't help the desire he made me feel.

"You're going to kill me, making noises like that." Milos groaned, starting to move his hips.

I moaned again. My hands reflexively reached for his shoulders, clutching them tightly. His pelvis was rubbing against me in just the right way, flames licked through me. Milos dropped his head, teasing one of my nipples through my lace bra with his teeth. The sensation was amazing, I arched harder into him.

He began thrusting harder into me, as if he could read my mind. It was incredible, there was nothing else in the world but the incredible feeling of him on my body, around me, inside me. He was overwhelming, all encompassing. His mouth moved back to mine, crushing my lips in a deep kiss.  
It was all too much, just enough, perfect. I came, shouting, moaning, whispering his name. Milos was shaking above me, impossibly hard inside me, then he was coming, burying himself in me as he clung to me desperately.

"Give me ten minutes and I'll have you again." He muttered, nibbling on my ear.

"You think you can go again?" I teased. "A man of your age?"

His hands were moving over my body, touching me, teasing my skin. His eyes slowly roamed from the crown of my head, over my body, to the tips of my toes and back.

"After a year of celibacy? Absolutely. I should be sainted for resisting you these last few months." He growled, lifting me into his arms and walking towards the study.

"Where we going? The bedroom is the other way!" I laughed, clinging to him.

"I'm going to have you on the desk." He muttered back. "It's the least I can do since you seem to enjoy posing suggestively on it when I'm around."

He knocked open the door with one hand, then brought me over the desk and dropped me unceremoniously onto it. My dress was untied but still hanging on my shoulders, my body exposed before him.

"Perfect." Milos whispered, dropping to his knees in front of me and pulling me by the hips to the edge of the table.

He buried his face between my legs, mouth hot and enthusiastic. I could barely handle the intensity of the pleasure running through me, I was still sensitive from my orgasm, but he was licking me strong and hard and just the right way. I was trembling at each stroke of his tongue, moaning as he brought me closer and closer. I could feel it building inside me, something curling tighter and tighter. It was all encompassing, I tried to move my hips back but his hands were on me, pulling me closer. My entire body was rigid, shaking, desperate to come again.

Slowly he entered me with two fingers, rubbing in time with his tongue on my clit and I was gone, shouting his name, seeing stars, arching myself against his mouth as his tongue continued its onslaught on my body.

Suddenly Milos stood, his erection clearly visible between us. He dragged my face to mine for a deep kiss as he entered me hard and fast. I couldn't stop calling his name, the feeling of him was incredible. As he moved in and out of me he pulled my dress off my shoulders and started suckling on my neck. I moaned again, pulling him closer, raking my nails across his back. He unclasped my tiny bra, pulling it off of me and burying his face between my breasts.

His breathing was irregular, his body had a light sheen of sweat, he was already getting close. He was gripping my hip with one hand, his mouth was lavishing attention on my breasts, and his other hand moved between our bodies, gently rubbing circles around my feminine nub. I felt those familiar flames in me again, felt that familiar tightening sensation. I opened my eyes and he was staring at me with that gaze of his, those eyes I thought I would never see again. Desperately I clawed at his shoulders while wrapping my legs around him. I felt Milos start to come, his body slamming into mine and I couldn't hold back any more, I shouted his name as one last climax wracked my body while we clung to each other.

"I love you." Milos said sleepily as we tried to catch our breath, still holding on to one another desperately.

"I love you, too. Bed?" I finally managed to breathe.

He nodded. "I can't do that again, though."  
"I'm not even sure I can move, and you did all the work." I muttered appreciatively.

He kissed me again. "I need to work on my stamina. What was that, a combined ten minutes?"

I laughed, running my hands through his hair. "You were perfect. Any more and I wouldn't be able to do anything but sleep."

He kissed me again, a long, deep kiss. "I love you."

"I love you." I said back.

He grinned at me wolfishly. "Say it again."  
"You're greedy." I teased.

"Greedy?" He growled as he bent to kiss my neck. "I've been waiting more than a year to hear that you love me. Say it again."

His mouth latched on to the base of my neck, sucking. "What are we, in high school? Stop that! I love you! I love you!"

I was laughing, he was laughing. I still felt giddy. "Good. When did you realize?"

"I had known for a while, but I still had some reservations. The night you told me about everything that happened while you were gone, I realized you were never going to hurt me again. Then it was just waiting for you to get better." I said, slowly getting down from the desk.

Milos raised an eyebrow. "When did you first know?"

"Honestly?" He nodded slowly. I could feel a blush rising my cheeks. "The day you left."  
His face slowly split into a massive grin. "Four days."

I rolled my eyes while I picked up my dress. "Yes, four days. You've always been terribly easy to love. I never stood a chance."

Suddenly there were strong arms around my waist and under my legs, lifting me into the air and spinning in circles with me. The room was a blur, it was an outburst of joy. I clung to him, one arm wrapping around his neck while the other rested over his heart. Then his lips were on mine, warm and tender. "You are better than my memory can recall or my fantasy could create, Petra Dvoracek."

"You always were my Prince Charming, my romantic hero. Though you're different now. Lighter, ironically not as tortured."

He laughed a little, nodding. "I'll take that as a compliment. You do love me, after all."

"Lucky for us, I do." I replied breezily as he carried me to our bedroom and laid us both on the bed.

"Lucky for us." He murmured back, pulling me tight to his chest. For a long moment we laid in the quiet, savoring the moment.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I forgot to tell you! At the party Rafael told me he's dropping his custody suit."

Milos looked at me disbelievingly. "What? Why? What happened?"

"Apparently Jane the Venerable struck again. Told him he was hurting the girls by trying to keep me out of their lives."

"Do you believe him? Last month he was threatening to tell my former associates that I was alive. This month he just drops the suit?" He could not have sounded less convinced.

I shook my head. "I told you he was bluffing then, he's not a monster. Jane has a serious hold over him, I don't particularly understand it myself. But he would do anything for her, trust me."

Milos furrowed his eyebrows. "Isn't she married? I've met her husband twice, I think."

"Yes, she's married. I'm sure he still thinks he has a chance. She thought you were very funny at the party, by the way." I said casually, running a hand up and down his back.

He grinned facetiously. "I am very charming."  
I scoffed. "Just try not to fall in love with her like everyone else."

Both of Milos' hands cupped my face, his mouth descended to mine. He kissed me deeply, his lips lingering sweetly. "I love you, Petra Dvoracek. No one will ever compare to you in my eyes. Especially not Jane. You are everything to me. You have been since the first time I heard you play."

I rolled him onto his back, kissing him again. He always did understand me. "Are you sure you can't handle one more time? I'd love to return the desk favor."

"Anything for you, my love." He assured me, grinning as he watched my head descend.  
And he did manage again that night.

**Author's Note:**

> It was established that Milos was abusive, but never what type or to what degree. As a survivor of domestic violence, I firmly believe that a person who hurts you will never, ever change. But as a writer, I wanted to see if Milos could be a redeemable character.  
> To that end, I believe he could be under these circumstances--that there was only verbal and emotional abuse because of his inability to handle his anger, and that he's overcome it with a significant amount of psychological help. He wanted to change, he made the decision to change, and he put the work into changing. He has been significantly changed for years.  
> That being said, it would be remiss of me to not say this: If someone hurts you, they're not worth your time, energy, or love. Please do not forgive or "try again" with someone who abuses you, be it physically, emotionally, sexually, or verbally.


End file.
